


Not The Same As It Used To Be

by FiveTail



Series: Coming Home [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Sburb/Sgrub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-30
Updated: 2012-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:26:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FiveTail/pseuds/FiveTail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the winners of a modded game are forced to deal with the consequences of each other. Can be read as a series of connected oneshots with a linear plotline. Fic starts sometime before EoA5.</p><p>Chapter 10:<br/>You were about to reprogram the software in question when a friend of yours offered to help by solving your sight issues in a more practical way. The glasses they helped build for you bathed the universe in lines of colored code; negative space shadowed, inanimate objects Prospit gold, sentient beings their respective blood colours. The lenses deconstructed the world to the bare basics of numbers and symbols, and you perceived the very framework you once hacked in order to diverge the alpha timeline.</p><p>You had been reborn into a world of yellow and black, and it was perfect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ==> [s] John: Wake up.

  


**== > [[s]](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9zdNdjF-htY%20) John: Wake up.**

Something filled up   
my heart with nothing,   
someone told me not to cry.   


The sheets are warm beneath your fingers.

You make a familiar groggy reach for the glasses folded atop your nightstand, sliding them onto your face and watching as your bedroom snaps into clarity. The lingering memory of blood stains your atmosphere with the scent of copper. Green lighting flashes behind your eyelids, every blink sending snapshots of a battlefield thundering inside your head. Your fists clench tight enough to leave crescents in your palms, the muscles in your arms tensing, even in the absence of warhammer clashing against red-stained sword.

The ghost-print blankets covering you are tossed aside, and you leap up from your bed. There’s no time for a slow flooding of memories, or gradual recovery from temporary amnesia. One thought registers, loud and clear.

You’d broken the game.

You find the bathroom mirror, and you look older than you remember.

You’re wearing blue fleece footie pyjamas; the Hero of Breath symbol is emblazoned in aqua across your chest, the rubber-bumped soles of your covered feet decked in bright yellow. This outfit still has your massive windsock of a hood trailing behind you (which comes as a mild relief, seeing as you’d grown rather attached to it).

The thin, sharp slices of flesh stolen by Noir’s blade tingle beneath your skin, but you pull back your sleeves back and see nothing, nothing as non-existent wounds prickle your nerves in afterthought.  
You unzip the top of your pyjamas and you lean in and you can still _feel it_ , the ghosting pins and needles of an invisible sword skewering through you. You watch your fingers trace absently across your bare, scrawny chest. There’s a gentle pulse beneath smooth, unscarred skin, and a realization.

( _It’s over._ )

( _That means..._ )

You dash out of the bathroom with renewed excitement. A quick movement, and you find you can still fly; you reach the end of the second floor hallway where your bathtub used to be, and you hover down, landing softly at the bottom of the stairs.

( _Gotta find him._ )

Your world is now one without the game.

The walls and floors of your home are free from slicks of oily black. The view from the window is of your neighbourhood-- _your neighbourhood!_ \--a place you hadn’t realized you missed so dearly. You pass your windows and smile as the warmth of the sun tickles your skin. You’d almost forgotten what the sun felt like, at least one that wasn’t green and ginormus and threatened to compromise your entire existence if it wasn’t handled just so.

Frustration knits your brows together, impatience increases your searching speed.

( _Where is he?_ )

In your urgency, you don’t see that the walls around you are bare of paintings and caricatures. You don’t notice that every harlequin figurine and statue and novelty lamp you’ve ever grown to know and hate is absent from the rooms.

You reach the living room again, and you realize neither Nanna’s portrait nor her ashes could be found atop the fireplace.

You are now zooming throughout your house in a panic.

Your heart is pounding, fiercely, same as before. Same as when you stared death in the face for the third time, the weapon Vriska had helped you alchemize in your grip and the fate of your universe on your shoulders. Same as when your body slowly remembered how to work after your first resurrection, causing you to stumble around in dull pain as the thudding of your heartbeat grew to a proper rhythm and you taught yourself how to breathe again.

The sensation stabbing your chest from the inside is much, much worse.

You’re floating in the kitchen, and you’re three years old, sitting on the counter, licking the chocolate-covered spoon from a batter he’d just mixed.

You’re hovering on the balcony, and you’re in the fifth grade, your arms and legs sticking out between the wooden bars of the second floor patio balcony while you snack on an after school pop-tart, waiting for the sight of his car to pull into the driveway.

You’re standing in your bedroom, and it’s your thirteenth birthday; he’s downstairs cooking for you, and the smell of baked goods is making your overloaded stomach turn.

You’re trembling in your living room, and the idea that _he isn’t here_ drops your aching heart to your buckling knees.

...dad?

You whisper in a house you know is empty, save for you.

The resulting silence pains you more than any sound in the world.

A loud tapping at the upstairs window jolts you from your thoughts, and you jump a good foot off the ground. You keep the height as you levitate back up and out to your balcony.

A familiar, long-haired girl stands on your lawn, her arm cocked back, holding another large pebble in her hand. If you squint a little, she looks just like you, and you don’t know if that insults your mangrit or compliments hers.

holy shit, jade? is that you?

Her buck-toothed smile pinches the skin beneath her wide, bespectacled green eyes. She jumps in joy waving up at you. Her strapped black dress, glittering with green sparkles, bounces prettily around her skinny, island-tanned legs.

You soar off the banister. She leaps when she hugs you, catching you mid-air.

thank goodness! i had a feeling we would find you here and youre here!! youre here youre here youre here!!!

The sound of her delighted laughter brings a grin to your face. You hold her close and spin her around and don’t set her down until you see the others approaching from behind her.

The first thing that strikes you about Rose is that she is no longer grimdark. Her dress is a sweeping black nightgown with opaque pink long-sleeves and a thin ribbon hugging her waist to match. Her hair is white, bright white, almost glowing--the faint grey tint of her skin seemed darker because of it.

Dave still has his shades on, and you feel a warm appreciation in realizing he cherishes those stupid things so much. Right now, he's shirtless beneath a red and black smoking jacket, fuzzy black slippers covering his feet. The pattern of records on his red boxers is more than familiar.

You are thoroughly confused.

what is going on? where are we? and what the heck are we wearing?

weeeeeeell

i think waking up in our beds with our normal outfits turned into pyjamas signals the end of the game somehow

but john the point is we won! we did it!!

Yes, it appears the Resurfacing Virus was successful in repairing the tear initially caused by the Rift, and I believe we are currently located in the new universe resulting from our recent victory.

does anyone else feel a draft

dave i told you to put pants on before we left. are you too coooool for pants?

ice cold babe

couldnt cover these stems in fabric without risking freezer burn

got hired for the monochromatic portion of a ziploc commercial so they could record incompetent strangers mishandling my legs

salarys paid in pants made out of plastic baggies with smart zip seals instead of buttons

boom i instantly become a walking choking hazard to stupid pets and stupider children

gotta keep that freshness locked in

Jade shoves Dave’s shoulder, laughing, and he smirks before turning to you.

by the way kudos on the fight back there thor its a good thing you like hammers

i mean you know in spite of the fact you didnt even try using the weapon i gave you the blueprints for

not like i went out of my way to con the denizen of blacksmithing for you or anything like that no big deal

Rose picks up on the nature of your silence first.

You can’t say you’re surprised.

She touches a hand to your shoulder when she approaches you. There’s worry in her lavender eyes. It makes you feel young, and stupid.

Are you alright?

Your nod convinces no one.

john if theres something you want to say...

seriously man you dont cause the destruction of the universe with a bunch of people then not tell them whats yanking your chain

spit it out

btw i didnt mean that shit i said about the hammer

no no, it’s not that, it’s just.

he’s gone.

You can see the weight returning to everyone’s postures, you can feel the way their breathing changes, but you can’t bring yourself to feel guilty about it. You can’t bring yourself to feel much of anything right now.

The expression in Rose’s eyes is replaced with gloom and sympathy.

I didn’t want to say anything until we had at least deciphered where and when we are, but so far, it seems as if anyone or anything that may have died during the course of the game has been lost permanently to it.

You bite back the tears welling in your eyes. You smile when you look over at them, the three people who have taunted time and cheated death, the partners who have been by your side to the ends of paradox space and back again, the friends who now by fate’s command know exactly how you feel.

i’m sorry.

this is our whole new universe now and we are in this together and it is so great to be here with you guys alive and kicking but

i can’t stop thinking about how he isn’t here anymore.

he can’t be here to see the world we all fought for and he can’t be here to know that we won and

he won’t be here to watch me get into high school or teach me how to shave and we’ll never go camping or play the piano together again and he won’t be here to cook breakfast in the morning and he won’t be here to tuck me in at night and

i can’t even remember what the last thing i said to him was.

You voice breaks.

Your fists are bundling again, nails digging even harder against the markings in your palm.

i thought. i thought for sure winning would bring them back. everyone. that is why i wanted to finish this so badly. if it can spawn a whole universe, why can’t it bring them back?

...he’s gone, rose.

Slow and careful, she slides her arms around you, cradling a hand against the back of your head. You press your nose to her shoulder.

She strokes your hair, softly, keeping her voice lowered enough for your ears only.

He would be so proud of you.

Your fingers tighten in the back of her dress.

And for the first time in a long time, you cry.


	2. ==> [s] Rose: Sit and listen.

  
**== > [[s]](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7pXRSPAUCTU) Rose: Sit and listen.**

And I find it kind of funny  
I find it kind of sad  
The dreams in which I'm dying  
Are the best I've ever had.  
  


The universe we spawned is much unlike what my earlier logs had first anticipated.

We progressed through a game in which total annihilation served as a running joke, the set-up being the destruction of our Earth, and the dragging punchline, the implosion of our Limbo. As survivors, I expected us to be landed with the responsibility of creating a new world from scratch, one which would require nurturing, rebuilding, restructuring, and as some of our otherworldly companions would be quick to call attention to, repopulation. What we received instead was a cultural and geographical amalgam of the two worlds previously lost. 

To my surprise, the existence of Wikipedia appears to be a universal constant. A scrutinizing review of portions possessing proper citations has assisted me in making better sense of where exactly we have found ourselves. 

The game’s overarching concept of Ultimate Alchemy is a process which results in the creation of new universes. Although it is true that the Scratch would have granted us a second chance, initiating a system restore in the software of our reality, the idea of being shuffled backwards in time and space with zero recollection of our progress was unappealing to some of the members in our friends lists. 

Rather, just one. 

This troll viewed our shared reality in the terms of the program it was, and without anyone’s prior knowledge, took it upon his or herself to fashion what essentially served a cheat code. The Resurfacing Virus linked the destruction of Jack to the collapse of the entire session. From that moment forth, the success of our escape was directly tied to killing Jack before the Scratch completed its four minute and thirteen second loading time. We tracked him as he fled with his tail between his legs to prevent his own erasure. We followed his weaves within spaces and sessions and time as the Virus left some sort of pixie dust in his wake, allowing us to shoelace behind him until we reached the aglets of our final confrontation. We hunted him down in a Veil we mistakenly thought was our own. 

His final judgement was brought about with hammers. Now we are here. 

The resulting planet, publically recognized as “Tierra”, is populated by both humans and trolls. Space exploration is dominated by the latter, and to this day, they continue to colonize other planets with the iron fist of an impeccable military tucked beneath the velvet glove of their species’ now inherently peaceful nature. 

In a stroke of economic improbability, Boondollars (ß) have become the universal currency. Our individual echeladder climbs, alongside Strider’s past display of intergalactic stock market mastery, negates the need for bank interest rates or part-time jobs for at least several hundred generations. 

There is no war or conflict. There is no public memory of Sburb, or of the events leading up to the creation of this dimension, or of the dimensions that have come long before it. Everything is lain out for us, down to the very last detail. Our homes, our legal documents, our bank accounts. If it were not for the absence of my mother, the sheer normality of this world would be enough to cast the initial existence of the game itself into reasonable doubt. 

I am still sceptical of such abrupt finality. 

It has been a fortnight since we landed in this realm. 

I am disgustingly rich in Utopia, and I await the day the meteors fall.

Sitting up in your bed, you glance out the window to your right, tapping the end of your pen against the black Moleskine lying open in your lap. Your place of residence resides in a forest identical to the one in which you once lived, down to the very pattern of the branches brushing against your window with every gentle gust of wind.

But this is not your home.

The trees, the location, the architecture. They ridicule you in their silent similarity, patronize you with the nature of their doppelgang. You have only left your room for necessity these past few days, for your footsteps echo emptiness about the bare walls waiting outside your door, and their resulting sound is laughter. The empty liquor shelves haunt you. The missing statues smile.

 _Da-da-da-da_.

A familiar notification tone snaps you from your disillusion.

You brush a fingertip across the touchpad of your laptop, bringing it out of its screen saver.

  


  
turntechGodhead says  
i still cant believe pesterchum doesnt exist here msn is a fucking tragedy of shakespearean proportions in and of itself  
these little circling bastards mock me every time i log on  
orbiting one another in a flagrantly homoerotic ballet  
i can feel the unresolved romantic tension in the symmetrical movements of their faceless bald fat torsos  
blue is a drizzle and green is a hurricane 

tentacleTherapist says  
I ship it.

turntechGodhead says  
of course you would  
did you get anything in the mail yesterday

tentacleTherapist says  
Yes, as a matter of fact.  
Several sheets of coupons printed with discounts for over thirty different combinations of soda and fast food, and a brochure containing pictures of land with an off-planet address.  
My Alternian is a little rusty, so the latter was either an advertisement for a lakeside timeshare or a real estate listing for previously used execution grounds.

turntechGodhead says  
im glad youre tickled pink by this shit  
are you the same shade as your turtle yet

tentacleTherapist says  
Peaslee van der Twitch is not pink.  
He is thulian. 

turntechGodhead says  
right  
and chad isnt red hes electric plush rump crimson berry blast

tentacleTherapist says  
That would be impossible to fit on a crayon. 

turntechGodhead says  
not unless you used really small font  
you could have an entire series of crayons with stupidly detailed titles  
crayolaborate  
crayolaquacious

tentacleTherapist says  
Verbroseart. 

turntechGodhead says  
fuck roseart  
were coupons for mickey ds and troll for sale ads seriously all you got

tentacleTherapist says  
No.  
I received introduction brochures to every school in this city, delivered to my door by a woman who took a staggering amount of delight in her work. 

turntechGodhead says  
wow same  
mail ladies here need a hobby  
you know one that doesnt involve postage

tentacleTherapist says  
Overly determined postal workers aside, I find this development thoroughly disconcerting.  
Everything about this realm is far too straightforward for it to have been spawned by Sburb. 

turntechGodhead says  
i hear you  
after all the convoluted shit we went through having everything handed to us on a silver platter is making me squint harder than a myopic dicaprio trying to pass a vision test  
as expected egbert isnt worried in the slightest

tentacleTherapist says  
Hm.  
After my last visit, I was under the impression his depressive state was easing. He continues inviting me to his home to watch movies, and his happiness upon my perpetual acceptance gives me reason to believe these events are therapeutic for him.  
Though, I do not know where he received the impression that every human who identifies as female swoons over Matthew McConaughey, but once I’m certain his sensibilities will be able to handle the shock, by god, I will stand him corrected. 

turntechGodhead says  
i know the feel bro  
egbert is convinced ben stiller is my spirit actor  
he invited me over the second he got his school pamphlets and all of a sudden we were picking out academies over night at the museum and orange mocha frappucchinos

tentacleTherapist says  
So you’re actually deciding on a school?  
It’s good to see John adapting so quickly, yet I didn’t take you for the studious type. 

turntechGodhead says  
hold up are you calling me stupid

tentacleTherapist says  
Not at all.  
My inquiring mind was only curious as to whether you would have considered enrolling into an educational program without the supporting beam of John’s blatant enthusiasm. 

turntechGodhead says  
duh why else would i enroll  
maybe one of these days hell look past the towers of bill cosby standup cassettes and vhs tapes only worth their value in nostalgia  
maybe hell reach out to look beneath these shades and finally see me  
the real me  
just a guy in love

tentacleTherapist says  
Your facetiousness in this matter is much appreciated. 

turntechGodhead says  
dont lie lalonde i can hear you taking notes about my sexual orientation with your fuzzy purple koosh pen from here  
how dare you taint the sanctity of the koosh with your psychobabble  
anyway yeah obviously its because of john  
you in all your vernacrayoler glory cant ignore the fact the end of the game is hitting him the hardest  
so we have identical school schedules what of it  
he gets to hang with his best bro every day and i get to make sure my best bro doesnt snap and take his warhammer to everything within a five mile radius that resembles a canine  
everyone wins

tentacleTherapist says  
Though I certainly wouldn’t think John to lash out violently in response to severe depression and unrelenting hopelessness, I agree with you.  
He continues to invite us over to his house rather than meeting us at an outside location because he is lonely, and his sharing his experience of school selection with you is an obvious cry for help.  
We have to get him through this. 

turntechGodhead says  
already on it sis  
bbl  
chad made me a bolt and im not letting that shit get cold

tentacleTherapist says  
A bolt? 

turntechGodhead says  
bacon onion lettuce and tomato  
little dude can only say one syllable but hes one hell of a chef  
loves his onions a bit too much though

turntechGodhead is Away and may not reply.

-

As time eases past, so does your anticipation for a sign you were still within the game.

Dave and John, along with Jade, spent five days a week together at a private school, the kind made up of dress shirts and school ties and well-kept lawns across the forecourt. You, on the other hand, learned much better while you were self-pacing, so you took online courses for your high-school equivalents early. You were trying to start your life again. You were trying to get comfortable.

The anxiousness settles, but the surreal detachment remains.

You feel like a mere reflection of something real. The world is moving in excitement and pace around you, and you are a grifter drifting through the fog. You hate the sensation with an unbridled passion, yet your friends help keep you grounded in a way you don’t think they fully recognize. At least one of them is always online. At least one of them will pick up their phone when you call. They are your anchor to the world, your own universal constant. You would be lost without them, even if you and your stunted emotional development made it nearly impossible for you to properly express to them just how much they mean to you.

John, in particular.

There is a very specific special spot in a specific big squishy chair in John’s living room that he considers yours. It’s where you sit every Sunday afternoon, your needles and your basket of balled yarn in-hand, knitting away quietly as he smiles and laughs and comments aloud to whatever he’s playing on the television.

Maybe it’s the fact you had someone who enjoyed your company, maybe it’s the little salamander that poked his (no, her) head to look over your armrest every so often to see if your most recent project was for her, but knitting at his house isn’t the same as it is knitting back at your own.

At the house, you felt like a shadow. Here, you felt. Content.

The sound of John’s laughter is happy and soothing, and you do not realize how long he’s went without smiling until he starts smiling around you.

He always invites you to sleep over that day. You always politely decline.

And whether his charmingly bright disposition was the result of severe repression or advanced coping strategies, you hadn’t a clue what thought processes he could’ve been utilizing to help himself through this.

One day, while you string together a slime ghost cozy for John’s glasses and watch _Failure to Launch_ play for the twelfth time on his flat-screen, you decide to simply try. Talking to him.

John, although this might not be the most opportune of times, might I ask you something?

His eyes linger on the screen as he turns his head towards you.

yeah, sure, shoot.

Do you ever feel lonely? Living here, all by yourself?

oh jeeeeeeeez.

rose, you are not trying to psychoanalyze me again, are you? i already told you, even though what happened actually happened, i do not have an irrational fear or hatred of dogs.

No psychoanalysis, I promise. Just curiosity.

His skinny shoulders slouch when he heaves his sigh.

i guess it does get lonely once in a while. but i have you and dave and jade and casey so that even though it gets lonely, i am never really alone.

But how can you stand it? Living here?

what do you...

...oh.

you mean without my dad.

I apologize if this is too forward of me. You don’t have to answer.

John shakes his head. For the first time during the conversation, he turns to look at you directly. His eyes are big and blue and innocent, magnified under the lenses of his glasses, like some despondent buck-toothed myopic puppy.

The small smile he offers you is solemn.

this is my dad’s house, even if it is technically not.

even if it is some sort of paradox replica of the house he used to have, this is still my home, and i need to take care of it because this is still a part of who he was and who i am, too.

my dad. dying. is not something i will ever, ever get over, i think. not in a million years. but it is something i have to learn to live with, because.

i think. i think if he could be here right now to talk to me or something, i am sure the last thing he would want is to see me be sad. it doesn’t mean i have to fake being happy, but that i have to stay strong, i guess.

besides, it wasn’t just my dad who got lost. your mom did, too. and dave’s bro, and bec.

i mean, don’t tell dave, but that is pretty much why i keep asking you guys to come over all the time.

i am really worried about all of you, and after everyone we lost to the game, i want to make sure everyone we have left is okay. i want to help you all through this as much as i can.

it is what a good leader does!

The irony of the situation overwhelms you, and you wonder if this sensation is why Dave enjoys evoking it so often.

...that is a very healthy outlook to have, John.

really? i thought you might have thought it was...kind of stupid.

You rest your hand on top of his in what was meant to be a reassuring movement.

Not in the slightest. I think it’s rather admirable.

He glances down and starts staring at where your hand is placed. All of a sudden, you’ve never been more hyperaware of your own hand in your entire life.

He slowly turns his hand over, and threads his fingers with yours. You notice the faintest shade of scarlet tinting his cheeks and the outsides of his ears when he looks up at you again.

is this okay?

You nod, and his relieved laugh is soft and shy.

Still holding your hand, he turns back to the movie. He doesn’t miss a beat when Matthew McConaughey’s character delivers one of his favourite lines.

“get the fuck outta my car!”

You raise your free fingers to your lips and try to stifle your giggle.

Matthew McConaughey is as terrible as ever, but at the very least, watching him is now infinitely more tolerable.

-

John gets a lot braver when it comes to holding your hand, and soon enough, whenever you come over to watch movies, you’re not knitting nearly as much as you normally do (much to Casey’s dismay).

One week, you decide to make up for lost time by going home and knitting Casey the snuggest little black-and-blue scarf you could manage. When you go to John’s house to drop it off, you discover him sleeping in front of his computer, no less than seven different popular chat clients open on the monitor, with every troll handle he could remember added onto every friends list.

He’d been searching for them, like a good leader.

It would be a lie to say you hadn’t wondered what happened to your troll companions once you entered this universe. Seeing as both your species lived on Tierra, the most obvious explanation would be that the survivors of their group landed here as well. Somewhere. The disappearance of Pesterchum erased the only link you had with them, and it wasn’t until then when you fully realized just how important the chat client was to your journey throughout the game.

You take John to his bed, and you wonder how long he’ll keep this up.

He leans on you tiredly as you lead the way to his room. With a bit of help, he gets under the ghost-print covers and buries himself against his pillow. Once he’s gone still, you tuck him in, and turn to leave.

His hand reaches up and slides atop yours.

dad?

His voice is tiny and helpless and for the first time ever, you don’t really know what to say.

Sighing, you kneel down at his bedside, stroking little circles with your thumb against the side of his hand. John comes to before the confusion escalates, and he blinks his eyes open groggily, knitting his brow together when he sees you.

oh...shit.

i’m sorry, i must have been dreaming again.

ignore anything you may have heard.

Hush. Only sleep now.

You use your other hand to tuck his bangs behind his ear. You continue repeating the movement, running gentle fingertips through the side of his hair. He’s smiling up at you, drowsily, and you can tell he’s not quite all there.

thank you for being my friend, rose.

you are cool and smart and i would not be here right now if it wasn’t for you so thank you for saving my life.

also you have really pretty eyes.

and really pretty hair.

and a really pretty. face.

A smile touches your lips, even though you despised how white and old your hair looked, and hated how there was still a dark grey to your skin as if the state of grimdark was a permanent marker that leaked black ink into your blood and didn’t wash completely out of you.

In spite of that, he cherished you; you can see the honesty shining in his eyes, and you realize how close your faces were.

You can feel him start to tremble from here.

He squeezes your hand, just a little.

...would it. be okay if i.

You tilt your head, just a little.

By all means.

He leans forward from the pillow and closes the space between you. His lips press to yours, tender and careful and the slightest bit dry, and it only lasts a few seconds before he pulls away, grinning and blushing and more flustered than you’ve ever seen him before.

...gosh.

Your own smile turns bashful when you start stroking his hair again.

Verdict?

well, it was a lot better than when you were dead, that’s for sure.

Oh, what a relief!

i did not mean it like that!

even though i do not know which way you think i meant it.

but i am sure that way was the wrong one.

...you sure you don’t want to sleep over sometime i mean you can bring twitch to have a playdate with casey so that he doesn’t have to be alone while you’re away and i will even download some super classy movies back from when they didn’t invent color yet where all the music is played by trumpets and all the guys have really nice radio voices. you will probably like those.

You giggle, and you cave worse than a house of cards in a windy thing.

Perhaps...one weekend out of my house will do me some good.

The weariness tugging at the edges of his smile disappears completely.

His half-lidded eyes slide shut as he slips softly back into sleep.

awesome.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope my Rose is okay, her character is pretty darn tricky!
> 
> Concrit encouraged.


	3. ==> [s] Karkat: Do no wrong in her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the lack of a chapter last Friday, but I hope this one makes up for it!
> 
>  **[EPILEPSY WARNING]** for the middle of the chapter. Art done by myself, references used.

  
**== > [[s]](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P7nz6-UVrmU) Karkat: Do no wrong in her eyes.**

Your Mind is restless.  
They say you’re getting better,  
but you don’t feel any better.   


You wake up spread-eagle on a hard surface.

Your eyes are closed. Your head is pounding. The red of your blood glows pink behind your eyelids, and you wince from how bright it is. You peek to find yourself in your respiteblock, stretched out in the middle of the floor, bathing in the sunlight spilling in from overhead.

 _You are bathing in the sun._

OH GOD OH GOD OH FUCK OH SHIT OH FUCK

You all but throw yourself into the safety of the shadows, kicking yourself backwards on your heels ( _get it away get it away_ ) to the nearest darkened corner, where your recuperacoon used to be ( _where did it go why isn’t it here_ ). You’re hyperventilating as your back smashes against the wall. Your anxious hands are on yourself in frenzy, patting down non-existent combustions, pre-emptively holding peeling grey flesh to your burned form.

But when you look down, there’s nothing.

( _...how the fuck is there nothing?_ )

Several minutes pass before panic stops arresting you. The light keeps shifting along your floor, dancing innocently through the six square panes of your patterned window; once you catch your breath, you crawl forward, questioning and apprehensive, to reach a fingertip into a square block of light.

Your skin feels its gentle warmth without bursting into flames, and it was then you knew none of this could possibly be real.

-

WH4T 4R3 YOU T4LK1NG 4BOUT

WRING OUT YOUR AURAL SPONGE CLOTS AND PAY ATTENTION. I’M TELLING YOU TO GET READY.

NOW THAT WE’VE TRACKED DOWN EVERYONE ON OUR TEAM LEFT ALIVE, WE NEED TO PREPARE FOR THE NEXT STAGE.

K4RK4T, W3 3XPLO1T3D 4 LOOPHOL3 TO D3F34T J4CK

TH3R3 1S NO N3XT ST4G3

TH3 G4M3 1S OV3R

THAT’S WHAT IT WANTS YOU TO THINK.

YOU KNOW YOUR3 ONLY GO1NG TO K1CK YOURS3LF 1N TH3 F4C3 ONC3 YOU R34L1Z3 4LL TH1S WORRY1NG 1S FOR NOTH1NG

WE'LL SEE WHOSE FOOT ENDS UP IN WHOSE SPEECH SLOT ONCE THE PROGRAM KICKS BACK IN.

EVERYONE WILL START CRYING TO ME IN A HUMILIATING RABID FURY FERVENT ENOUGH FOR THE ACID TEARS OF YOUR FRUSTRATED SHAME TO BURN LINES DOWN YOUR CHEEKS.

YOU'LL ALL LOOK UP AND SHOUT, "SAVE US".

AND I'LL LOOK DOWN AND WHISPER, "TOLD YOU FUCKERS".

OH MY GOG STOP T4LK1NG

...COULD YOU PLEASE STOP LICKING MY SCREEN, THAT IS THOROUGHLY FUCKING UNSANITARY.

1S TH1S WH4T YOUV3 B33N DO1NG

F1DDL1NG W1TH TH1S STUP1D GL1TCH3D CH4T CL13NT

TROLL14N 1S COMPL3T3LY BORK3D, K4RK4T, STOP W4ST1NG YOUR T1M3

YOUR3 NOT ST1LL MOP1NG OV3R YOUR FR3SHLY D1M1N1SH3D CHUMPROLL 4R3 YOU

WHAT I MOPE OVER IS MY OWN FUCKING BUSINESS, KEEP YOUR TONGUE TO YOURSELF.

I’M SORRY I CAN’T STOP THINKING ABOUT WHAT A SHITTY LEADER I AM OR THE FACT THAT AFOREMENTIONED SHITTY LEADERSHIP GOT HALF OUR FUCKING TEAM KILLED.

I’M SORRY I CAN’T IGNORE THE TOXIC STRESS SLUDGE STRAINING THROUGH MY THINK PAN TO PLAY GAMES WITH A USELESS CONSORT LIKE A WIGGLER WETTING ITS PANTS OVER A NEW FUCKING STRIFE SPECIBUS.

L13UT3N4NT CH3RRYSC4L3 1S NOT US3L3SS!

H3 H4S L34RN3D TH3 NU4NC3S OF TH3 COURTROOM F4ST3R TH4N 4NY OF H1S PR3D3C3SSORS 4ND W1LL M4K3 4 F1N3 4SS3T TO MY FOR3NS1CS T34M

WOULD THAT HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THE FACT HE’S THE ONLY MEMBER OF YOUR FORENSICS TEAM WHO ISN’T A STUPID FUCKING DOLL?

SHUT UP

4ND STOP P1TY1NG YOURS3LF, TH4TS MY JOB, R3M3MB3R

1TS TRU3 H4LF OUR T34M 1S D34D BUT TH4T 4LSO M34NS H4LF OUR T34M 1S 4L1V3

THROUGH THE EXTENSIVE AND INTRICATE TRIBULATIONS THIS GAME HAS SLITHERED DOWN OUR PROTEIN CHUTES, I’M GLAD THAT WE AT LEAST SALVAGED YOUR MATHEMATICAL CAPABILITIES.

L3T M3 F1N1SH DUNK4SS

H4LF OF OUR T34M D13D

1F 1T W4SNT FOR YOUR L34D3RSH1P, 4LL OF US M1GHT H4V3

SO STOP W4LLOW1NG 4ND B3 TH4NKFUL FOR WH3R3 W3 4R3 4ND WHO W3 4R3 L3FT W1TH

W3 N33D GOOD L34D3RSH1P NOW MOR3 TH4N 3V3R

BUT 1 GU3SS YOULL H4V3 TO DO

GET OUT.

4WWWWWWWWW 1S TH4T 4 SM1RK K4RKL3S

HOW CUT3

MORE LIKE.

EXECUTETIONARY.

H3H3H3H3H3

...YOU DO KNOW YOU ARE UNDER NO OBLIGATION TO CONTINUE STAYING AT MY HIVE.

SECRETING LIQUID PANIC FROM MY TERROR LOBE TO WADE IN A POOL OF MY OWN FEAR AND RESTLESSESS IS A PHENOMENON THAT IS PERFECTLY ACCOMPLISHED ALONE IN THE DARK.

1 4M NOT GO1NG 4NYWH3R3

YOUR 4NX1OUSN3SS R33KS OF T4RT M3R1NGU3

YOU N33D M3, YOU P4TH3T1C L1TTL3 WORRYSNUB

YOU 1N 4LL YOUR L3MONY FR3SHN3SS

Her long, slender fingers ruffle through your hair, and she leans in to flick the tip of her tongue affectionately against your cheek.

You don’t want to believe it, but she pities you enough to know.

-

There’s a pain in your chest cavity you spend the longest while trying to shake.

It stings you beneath your old black turtleneck, and sometimes you clutch the fabric of your anonymous-grey symbol in an attempt to will the aching away. You maintained the shirt as you maintained suspicions on how little the hemospectrum seemed to matter in this world. The absence of a functioning chat client meant you had to keep tabs on everyone in-person; you couldn’t risk being culled over such a preventable oversight. If you were going to be prepared for the next part of the game, you couldn’t lose track of your remaining team’s progress. Fate was handing you another chance on a silver eating receptacle. You had no intention of fucking up the second time around.

You don’t sleep. Not yet.

Their names are carved in blood behind your eyelids; they flash when you blink, they linger when you dream. Rumination dances at the edges of your memory, intangible thoughts swirling their morbid tribal ballet around the firey recesses of your mind. Consciousness and unconsciousness meld to form a waking dream as you lose track of the moonrises. You forget what sleep feels like, but your nights are spent trying to wake up.

(Wake up.)

( _Wake up._ )

The dragon plush piles she prepares help as much as they can.

Terezi slides off her pointed glasses when she takes her place next to you; your blood is staining her eyes, bright and sanguine. You ramble in Alternian while buried in the vibrant softness. You speak miles of the knotted dreams and the subtle pain stabbing at your core, she looks at you as if you’re the most pitiful sentience on the planet.

She falls asleep to your voice each time while wearing the same gentle expression, brows knitting together and one corner of her lips curling just so. You curl a lock of her dark hair behind her ear, leaning in, and when you rest a kiss upon her forehead you swear to god she cackles under her breath. She puts up with you. She listens. It’s all you can ask for.

She’s always typing when you see her, lately.

One week, she printed out a project and revealed it was a contract she’d drawn up, one which everyone in your party had to sign if they were expecting to receive financial support (à la the shitload of money Strider had wired her while you were still playing the game). The stipulations weren’t unreasonable, only for that an equal share of the savings (68.3 Boonbonds apiece), everyone was required to pay her a biperigeal Draconian Tribute in the form of SOM3TH1NG 4W3SOM3 TH4T 1S 4LSO 4 DR4GON.

You, on the other hand, had little free time between strifekind training and asking your lazy fucking teammates why they’re not strifekind training. When you were doing neither, you were on your husktop, tinkering with the final pixelated vestiges of Trollian. Sollux had already created a new version of Trollian from scratch, one which your team used to communicate amongst themselves, but installing it yourself would wipe out your old Chump Roll.

It would erase them all.

So you fiddle away at the program as it flickers and breaks and crashes on your operating system. The reset wiped all traces of Trollian from every electronic device owned by everyone you knew, except for you and your computer. You are convinced there is a reason for it.

You are determined to find out why.

One fateful bootup, three hours of idling results in a window popping open, completely unprompted. Four names in the sidebar. Four coloured lines no longer interrupted by the Scratch.

You rise from your seat. Your hands are shaking.

You click to open a viewport, and three open instead.

  


Your computer then proceeds to explode.  


-

You wouldn’t have been able to recognize an Alternian day if your life depended on it, but these nights are near-perfect reflections of the ones back home. Purple and grey shifted in devilish swirls across the sky, punctuated by clouds tinted fuchsia in the luminescence of the larger moon. This temporary world you created had two moons, one pink and one blue, but you could have sworn the blue moon was once green. Or perhaps you remembered home a lot less than you thought.

You watch the stars twinkle as you sit cross-legged in your lawnring. You see four less names when you close your eyes, and it’s four small steps closer to sleep.

A familiar clacking noise approaches from a distance. You recognize it at once as Terezi’s walking stick: hard, brief taps against the ground, as if she were trying to detect something buried beneath her. You wouldn’t be surprised if that really was what she was doing. It’s how she found her coin, after all.

This time around, though, she’s brought her consort, a crocodile of some sort. It hisses breaths through its teeth and it stares at you constantly with its beady teal eyes and the most unsettling thing about the creature was that it and Terezi almost shared the same smile. At least your consort never breaks your personal space bubble uninvited. Come to think of it, your consort never does much of anything at all, the lazy, massive-shelled bum.

Her cane bumps into your folded knee. She grins and folds her arms, towering over your still-seated form.

SO WH4T DO YOU SUGG3ST W3 DO N3XT, F34RL3SS L34D3R

There’s a flicker of hope in her expression when she speaks to you, and the sight of it catches you off-guard.

I TOLD YOU, I’LL PRINT OUT COPIES OF THE PREPERATION CHECKLIST ONCE I FINALIZE IT.

ON THE PLUS SIDE, EVERYONE ON OUR TEAM IS FINALLY UP TO DATE.

WHATEVER THE GAME THROWS AT US NEXT, WE’LL BE READY FOR IT.

IT’S JUST A MATTER OF TIME.

She sighs.

She nudges her stick around for her consort, and paps the short red crocodile on the butt to nudge it in front of you.

L13UT3N4NT CH3RRYSC4L3

TH3 B4D COP ROUT1N3, 1F YOU PL34S3

Cherryscale proceeds to deliver a rather sharp back-handed slap across your face.

OW

JESUS HELL TEREZI WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT FOR

TH1S H4S GON3 ON LONG 3NOUGH

1TS BEEN TWO P3R1GR33S

YOUR3 W4ST1NG 4LL OUR T1M3 H3R3 W41T1NG FOR SOM3TH1NG TH4T M1GHT N3VER COM3

1F TH3 GAM3 1SNT OV3R TH3N 1T 1SNT OV3R

W3 W1LL CROSS TH4T TR4V3RSABLE R1V3R OV3RH3AD WH3N W3 G3T TO 1T

R1GHT NOW W3 N33D TO F1GUR3 OUT WH4T W3 4R3 DO1NG H3R3

J3GUS K4RK4T W3 CR4SH L4ND3D ON 4N 4L13N PL4N3T F1LL3D W1TH TROLLS 4ND HUM4NS DONT YOU W4NT TO F1GUR3 OUT WH3R3 W3 AR3

I GUESS.

TOO L4T3

WH1L3 YOU W3R3 SW1MM1NG 4ROUND 1N YOUR OWN P13 L13UT3N4NT CH3RRYSC4L3 4ND I W3R3 OUT 1NV3ST1G4T1NG

4ND 1 WROT3 YOU TH1S TW3NTY S3V3N PAG3 D3BRI3FING

Cherryscale produces a pile of papers and drops them into your lap. You feather through them, briefly.

...WOULDN’T IT HAVE BEEN EASIER TO JUST LOOK IT UP ON THE WIKIPEDIA.

DONT 1NVAL1DAT3 TH3 D3BR31F1NG

You set the papers aside and encourage her into your lap, instead.

She curls her legs around you, her dainty ankles crossing at the small of your back. You offer a small kiss to her lips, and the way she immediately shoves her tongue halfway down your throat always takes you by surprise.

You break away to gently press your cheek against her shoulder.

...I WISH YOU COULD SEE THE STARS RIGHT NOW.

W4Y TO M4K3 FUN OF TH3 BL1ND G1RL, 4SSHOL3

NO NO I DIDN’T MEAN IT AS AN INSULT.

JUST THOUGHT IT WOULD BE ROMANTIC IF WE COULD LOOK UP AND SEE WHAT WE MADE TOGETHER.

YOU 4R3 4 M4SSIV3 CH33S3BALL

FUCK OFF.

She giggles past your ear when you hold her close, and your eyes fall half-lidded.

So far, you and your remaining teammates have pulled through in something you’re tentatively calling a success. The humans survived the session. Both your matesprit and your moirail were here by your side. The game actually might have even been over once and for all, and everything around you was just the way it was meant to be.

Your fingers tighten in the back of her shirt.

For a reason you can’t explain, the thought only makes the ache in your chest intensify.


	4. ==> [s] Dave: Be awesome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY HALLOWEENIES! This chapter is late, but it was a monster. Up to now, every new chapter is amounting to about half the words of the entire story before it. Hopefully they aren't dragging. D:
> 
> Reviews loved, concrit encouraged!

  
**== > [[s]](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OYws8biwOYc) Dave: Be awesome.**

A quarter of my life gone by  
and I met all my friends online.  
Motherfucker, I'm awesome.

it’s weird not being able to see you all the time anymore.

His eyes shy away when he says it.

He’s all bright blue gazes and lanky slouches idling in front of your elevator. He’s dressed the same way he has since he was a kid: converse sneakers, light jackets, graphic tees printed with esoteric references used as lengthy conversation starters for the poor unsuspecting inquirer. His bucktoothed smile was ever the same; he went through laser eye surgery to correct his vision some years ago, but kept his old frames for some godforsaken reason, and you are absolutely positive that without your careful guidance and occasional intervention, he would have devolved into some socially non-redeeming dirty hipster nerd.

(You were such a good friend.)

You sip your apple juice through a crazy straw and tuck your free hand in your pocket and lean against your apartment doorframe, your expression unreadable beneath the glasses he’d bought you all those years ago.

cant really blame you for missing me

you went through high school with a daily dose of strider

withdrawal symptoms are an inevitable side effect

along with headaches dizziness nausea and the inability for your brain to produce its own taste in music

He laughs because he knows it’s true. Obviously.

at least you live close now, and i can drive by and bug you like this after school.

jeez, you must be busy as hell with all the hard sciences you’re taking this semester.

prereqs to get into forensics

thought i might as well plow through the boring shit as fast as i can

man. you and rose are so smart.

you know she studied hardcore at home and went for her diplomas after like, a year? now she is working through college stuff and studying for her m and m cats or something. it is pretty intense.

mcat egbert you need it to get into med school

that is exactly what i am talking about! you guys have your whole careers planned out and i haven’t even decided on a major yet.

relax its our first year

this is the life stage where youre supposed to struggle with yourself but look back on it later wearing nostalgia goggles loaded with gaussian lenses that cast everything about your past into a soap opera blur so you can anime sigh at future reunions about the good old days

its a time for subject dabbling and drug use and gratuitous sexual experimentation

or at least thats what the songs say

...where do you come UP with this stuff.

wait i have a better question

why are you taking the elevator when you can use the window

so i don’t attract attention!

i can’t just go around flying everywhere, people will ask questions.

right right

i guess if youre going to dick around midair you might as well look like a doofus in the privacy of your own home

speaking of which you and lalonde alright

Red tints the shells of John’s ears, and his calm expression makes you doubt he’s aware of his own blushing.

He nods and smiles, fidgeting with the strap of his backpack over his shoulder.

yeah.

rose and twitch are still staying at my place. it is like a permanent sleepover.

There’s a stuttered slurping noise as your straw sucks up the last of the juice.

You raise an eyebrow.

John recoils.

gross, dave! i did not mean it like that!

i mean, not that it is ANY of your business, but we are not.

we haven’t.

The blush in his ears spills across his face like fruit punch on porcelain.

...my dad taught me that kind of stuff should be saved for marriage, okay.

so whens the wedding

dave!!

what

its a simple question

youve been together for how many years now

in the immortal words of christina aguilera if you like it then you should put a ring on it

dammit egbert you make my paradox ectosister an honest woman

The elevator dings when it arrives. Sputtering flustered, incoherent nonsense, John quickly scurries inside, and he’s sure to flip you off when he turns around. You catch your straw between your teeth and chew on it with a smirk while the doors gently slide to a close.

When he’s gone, you walk back into your apartment, and shut your own door behind you.

Your loft always seemed so much bigger when he left.

You could see him now, driving the twenty minutes back to his place, dropping his backpack on the foyer floor of the replica of his father’s house and finding Rose to give her a kiss on the cheek before holing himself up in his room and pouring over that ridiculous software he’s been working at for years.

You’re not sure if he’s gotten any better at programming since he’d taken an interest in it--computers weren’t really your field--but John was persistent, if nothing else. You were in the group chat when he first shared his idea. You were holding the ladder when Jade installed the satellite dish on top of his house. You were there when he logged onto MSN for the sole purpose of talking to you about the new breakthroughs in his program; at first, it was a bunch of technical mumbo-jumbo, but his excitement wasn’t anything a few books off Amazon and several dedicated hours on Wikipedia didn’t help you understand.

John sent out his broadcasts and swept out his signals and five years had passed since you first left the game, but he was happy being the only one of you trying. Finding your old troll comrades wasn’t just a possibility in his mind, it was an absolute certainty, and nothing you said ever convinced him otherwise.

You’d been busy with other things.

For one, you’d been dropped into a strange world alongside your friends, a world in which all of you were ridiculously wealthy. So you did what any kid who once lived dirt-poor in a shitty Texas apartment for the first thirteen years of their life would’ve done.

You splurged.

Sure, a replica of your apartment existed in this city; that’s where you found your stuff, but you weren’t about to stay. You paid to get a mansion built for a fraction of the interest gained on the money you banked away. At the age of fifteen, you picked up and moved to the house of your dreams: fifteen thousand square feet, a grand hallway for your authentic sword collection, a professional darkroom, a home theatre system, top-of-the-line computer equipment, the sicknastiest music gear on the market, a recording studio in the basement, and a heated pool shaped like your head. The lighting rigs and the house-wide sound system was mind-blowing. Your crib put hip-hop music videos to shame.

Unfortunately, a larger house meant more responsibilities. You needed an entire staff just to maintain the place, and something about having your property crawling with money-grubbing suck-up employees on a daily basis didn’t sit right with you. Not to mention the fact that the space needed for the mansion required it to be built on the outskirts of the city, which meant you saw your best friends far less regularly than you wanted.

But the money-grubbing suck-up employees were the main reason why you sold off the place and nearly everything inside it to move into a cozy downtown loft only one year later.

The employees were why. Obviously.

You soundproofed the spare bedroom, put red lightbulbs in the walk-in closet, and threw your swords into the fridge.

Somehow, you were happier this way.

Your hand still buried in your pocket, you pass by your beady-eyed crocodile bro, who was sitting in front of the plasma with a notebook in his hand watching The Food Network.

chad

the only reason why i let you watch this channel is because your mind is a dry sponge that sops up culinary expertise like liquid from a bounty commercial table

so i order you to stop watching guy fieri because nothing good will come from that

_naknaknak_

i know a girl whos aunt lived in an apartment building with him when he was a kid

_nak nak_

hand to god

you know he once took a dump in the hallway and blamed it on the aunts dog

is that who you really want to be taking notes on

a hallway shitting dog blamer

_naknaknak nak naknaknaknak naknak_

fuck you dude

Still chewing on your straw, you rest your empty cup on your computer desk and flop down in the chair. You spin around to face the tall window next to you and stare down a few stories at a busy street, polluted with the sound of running engines and people in a hurry. It’s one thing you didn’t like during the year you’d spent at the mansion. You missed the noise.

The noise kept you thinking, kept you feeling busy.

You needed to keep busy.

You couldn’t linger after Bro’s death. He wouldn’t have wanted it.

He taught you to be independent, and you weren’t about to compromise the effects of his training dwelling in the grief of his loss. The game being over brought you into stagnancy, from turmoil to a sudden calm. You had to pick up. You had to move on.

To this day, you still wonder if you’re doing it right.

Things didn’t fall into perfect place like this, they needed to be altered and tweaked and wrenched to fit; as a once-frequent traveller of time, you knew it better than anyone. If the cylindrical block didn’t slide into the square hole, you carved it down until it did. Here, you felt restless, jumpy, itchy with anticipation, waiting to find something, anything to work with.

You tried to work with Jade once upon a time.

She saw your coolkid persona as an amusing novelty, but as the years went by, she saw little else, and soon enough, she outgrew you completely.

A new message from her flashes orange at the bottom of your screen.

In spite of everything, she would never fail to bring a smile to your face.

  


gardenGnostic sends  
trollchum.exe (68.3 KB)

turntechGodhead says  
woah  
harley what are you sending right now  
are you opening the floodgates to the horrors of unfiltered virus porn  
am i going to end up with naked ladies draped across the desktop looking through the screen with the souless gaze of compromised dreams  
crudely animated gifs straddling my toolbar in misguided subliminal equestrian aspirations  
mommy couldnt afford a pony but maybe i can ride these program icons just the same  
hello  
are you busy  
are you busy trying to replace my cursor with a schlong

gardenGnostic says  
oh gross dave!!  
sorry i was in another window  
and no this isnt a virus  
its a surprise! :D

turntechGodhead says  
that is exactly what a bot would say

gardenGnostic says  
im not a bot tho ):

turntechGodhead says  
also exactly what a bot would say

gardenGnostic says  
daaaaaave stop screwing around  
this is important!

turntechGodhead says  
what is two plus four

gardenGnostic says  
hmmm thats a hard one...  
could it be......  
maybe..................  
i dont know............................  
SIX??? :o

turntechGodhead says   
access granted  
this better be worth the disc space

You double-click the icon and install the program.

It’s a chat client.

You scooch your wheeled chair a little closer to the desk, leaning in to squint at your flat-screen (as if a 27-inch Mac monitor with Thunderbolt display needed squinting). You complete the installation, registering an e-mail and username. The layout of Trollchum was more than familiar, and if you took its namesake into consideration, it wasn’t all too strange that the program itself was similar to a recoloured, obsolete version of Pesterchum.

gardenGnostic says  
are you all signed up??

turntechGodhead says  
yeah  
guess which handle i picked  
you get three tries and the first two dont count

A few seconds later, a Trollchum window pops up.

gardenGnostic [GG] invited turntechGodhead [TG] to tc.beta.v.3.8.6 at 00:14.

TA: 0h, ser10usly.  
GG: what??  
GG: hi dave!  
TG: sup  
GG: oh not much  
GG: just you know  
GG: tracking down our troll friends from THE GAME!!!  
GG: no big deal!  
TA: 1t was a c0mb0 eff0rt just f0r the rec0rd.  
GG: yeah!  
GG: sollux picked up on johns broadcast and narrowed our location down  
GG: and i did most of the work after that  
TA: excuse me.  
TA: wh0 was the 0ne wh0 encrypted the 0r1g1nal scr1pt and spent the last sweep br0adcast1ng 1t w1th1n a frequency spec1f1cally ta1l0red t0 be p1cked up by human 0perat1ng systems.  
GG: and who was the one who spent the past two MONTHS trying to decode your perpetual onslaught of stupid riddles??  
TA: y0u’re stup1d.  
GG: youre the one who doesnt know what a phone book is!  
GG: i cant believe weve been living in the same city the whole time!!  
TG: keep it chill there harley  
GG: lol okay :)  
GG: i am so chill  
GG: i have my freezer pants on!! :D  
GG: er...wait  
TG: close enough  
TG: so wait  
TG: sollux right  
TG: i talked to you right before we got ejaculated out of our session  
GG: ewwwwwwwwwwww  
TG: youre telling me you and the rest of the trolls we met survived  
TA: n0 sh1t, 0f c0urse we surv1ved.  
TA: 1t’s n0t l1ke 1t was my v1rus that g0t us 0ut 0f there 1n the f1rst place 0r anyth1ng.  
TA: we th0ught y0u humans were dead f0r a wh1le but then kk’s tr0ll1an freaked 0ut 0n the t1mel1nes and sh0wed y0u f0ur were 0kay.  
TA: 1 g0t b0red 0ne day and swept the a1rwaves f0r 1nterest1ng s1gnals. 1 f0und eb’s br0adcast and 1 repl1ed, but whatever sh1tty pr0gram he was us1ng c0uld 0nly send messages and n0t rece1ve them.  
TA: gg was m0n1t0r1ng fr0m her s1de and 1 tr1angulated her p0s1t10n after she resp0nded t0 my track1ng scr1pt.  
TA: what we’re talk1ng 0n r1ght n0w 1s a chat cl1ent 1 devel0ped f0r my fr1ends and 1 s0 c0uld talk t0 each 0ther. 1t’s s1mple and stra1ghtf0rward. n0 t1mel1nes n0 v1ewp0rts n0 f1leshar1ng.  
TA: 1’ve never p0rted 1t t0 a human c0mputer bef0re s0 y0u need t0 test 1t 0ut f0r me bef0re we can share 1t w1th the 0thers.  
TA: 1s that 0kay.  
TG: why are you typing like that  
TA: d1d y0u read a w0rd 1 just sa1d.  
TG: yeah yeah youre alive were alive everythings beautiful and nothing hurts  
TG: but your typing is different from when we last talked  
TG: in case youve forgotten typing styles were how we identified between the lot of you so in a way youre making me think i have no idea who the hell you are  
TA: 0h, r1ght.  
TA: 1’ve been us1ng th1s qu1rk s0 l0ng 1t must have sl1pped my m1nd.  
TA: 1’m typ1ng l1ke th1s because there’s 1 0f me left.  
TA: 1 used t0 have my n0rmal self and tw0 dream selves but my v1rus c0uld 0nly aff0rd t0 take 1 1nstance 0f each surv1v1ng player bef0re eject1ng us t0 a branched t1mel1ne.  
TA: 1t’s als0 based 0n b1nary. 1ts pretty clever.  
TA: alm0st l1ke a.  
TA: D0UBLE WHAMMY.  
TA:   
TG: i thought you didnt do the bifurcation thing anymore  
TA: 1t was a n0stalg1c callback.  
TG: your reasoning doesnt make sense anyway  
TG: there was only one instance of surviving you before we left the game in the first place so if you were going to switch to that you wouldve done it a long time ago  
TG: and werent zeros only used by the dead or the doomed  
TG: are you trying to tell us something here  
GG: hey yeah thats right  
GG: sollux are you a ghost??  
TA: let me check.  
TA: n0pe.  
TA: pretty sure my head w0uld have g0ne THR0UGH the desk just n0w 1f 1 was.  
GG: what if its a ghost desk?  
TG: the girl raises a point  
TA: can y0u d0 me a fav0ur.  
TA: can y0u fan y0ur aura 0f 1d10cy away fr0m my general d1rect10n. 1t’s suff0cat1ng 0ver here.  
TA: 1 feel l1ke an unwanted human elder be1ng put 0ut 0f h1s m1sery w1th a p1ll0w 0f stup1d.  
GG: oh my god  
TA: wh0 d1ed and made y0u kn1ght 0f typ1ng qu1rks anyway, tg.  
TG: what can i say bro continuity is important to me  
TG: to err is human to be sequential divine  
TA: whatever. 1 d1dn’t expect s0me1 l1ke y0u t0 apprec1ate the beauty 0f b1nary anyway.  
TG: 011010000110010101101000

twinArmageddons [TA] banned turntechGodhead [TG] from responding to memo.

GG: :O sollux!  
GG: rude!!  
TA: just let me know if it works, gg.

twinArmageddons [TA] closed memo.

-

gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 00:29.

GG: dave ignore sollux okay  
GG: hes being a huge butthead  
GG: but anyway were supposed to test out this chat program for him to see if its okay for our operating systems to handle  
GG: so lets do that together! :D  
TG: ok  
GG: im going to go tell john the big news  
GG: just remember not to share the program until were totally sure its stable alright?  
TG: got it  
GG: oh and dont try talking to anyone else yet because sollux says hes still tweaking around with the network  
TG: no problem  
GG: maybe you should write this down or something  
GG: in case this is too much for your cooooolkid persona to bother remembering :p  
TG: dont share the program dont talk to anyone but you two  
TG: im on it like shakespeare on a sonnet  
TG: like a nun in a cucumber field  
TG: like white on rice  
TG: or brown on rice  
TG: im not racist  
GG: you suuuure? :p  
TG: positive

  



	5. ==> [s] Gamzee: Take a walk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I take it back. Gamzee is the hardest character to write. Reviews are loved, concrit is encouraged!
> 
> (Don't forget to highlight.)

  
**== > [[s]](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TNwlPAlxC_s) Gamzee: Take a walk.**

Does anyone in here get hit with   
INSIDE FEVER   
so bad sometimes it’s hard to move around.   


Tremors shiver down your dominant arm. You don’t know how long you’ve been holding the string back, but your expression remains stagnant as the unwavering force makes your eyes water.

 _ Scriiiiitch. _

It tallies the days it’s kept prisoner behind the walls of your skull, and the noise has replaced your heartbeat. It’s an inconvenient nuisance, a tickle at your consciousness, white noise echoing vibrations behind your eyes. It grows to be thunderous, spine-shattering; it plots symmetry to rip your head in two and it sets your every nerve on fire.

 _ Scriiiiitch. _

It crouches and cowers in the corners of your recesses. The claw drags--drags, up-down, up-down, up-down--burrowing through bone. It taunts with deliberate movements, eyes glowing in the dark, smiling a wide, fanged smile that consumes its misshapen face. Pieces of you crumble at its feet. You fear the day the noises stop. You fear the day it bursts forth from your mind and makes your head weep indigo.

 _ Scriiiiitch. _

It pulls a string, and you let go of yours.

The bright fletch of the arrow whips past your face. Your winged target is impaled, instantly, erupting in a sharp cry as it tumbles gracelessly into the sea. It joins its brethren bobbing on the surface of the water, littered with dead flightbeasts skewered on your arrows, a floating field of bodies and loose feathers waxing black for you. Just for you. All for you.

The scratching recedes behind the threshold of pain. It is pleased.

...YOU KNOW THOSE THINGS AREN’T FREE, RIGHT.

You turn your head and blink asymmetrically, giving Karkat a lop-sided smile.

relax, best bro.

THESE MOTHER FUCKERS FLOAT.

His shoulders slouch. You can tell the sigh he sighs is a frustrated one, you can tell because his arms are crossed and the corner of his mouth flickers into a grimace and he’s shrunk in on himself, making him seem even smaller in comparison to you. He’s staring out at the sea, and he’s thinking about you. His forehead does a wrinkly thing when he thinks about you. You can tell.

WHAT IS WITH THIS NEW CROW HUNTING OBSESSION OF YOURS, ANYWAY. THIS IS THE FOURTH TIME THIS SWEEP YOU’VE BROUGHT YOUR STRIFEKIND TO THE BEACH.

uhh, what can i say.

THE INK VERMIN ARE STAINING MY MOTHERFUCKIN SKY.

let them get away with their crooknasty deeds and they’ll up and dye the whole fuckin world.

...GAMZEE, THIS IS “CROW BEACH”. BOLD ITALIC EMPHASIS ON THE WORD “CROW”. THERE ARE FOUR OTHER BEACHES WE COULD’VE GONE TO, BUT YOU CHOSE TO COME HERE OUT OF YOUR OWN FREE FUCKING WILL. WHY ARE YOU PURPOSEFULLY SUBJECTING YOURSELF TO SOMETHING YOU HATE?

YOU DON’T KNOW WHO THE FUCK YOU ARE UNTIL YOU FIND SOMETHING YOU HATE.

i’m trying to figure out who the fuck i am.

THE DIRTY FUCKIN TRUTH BRINGER SANG THROUGH MY EYES LIKE A LOUDMOUTH HERALD SOUNDING OFF HERETICAL MOTHER FUCKIN CONVOLUTIONS.

his filthy stories were my sicktwisted mantra.

HIS WORDS WERE MY MOTHERFUCKIN LULLABY.

i was a wicked flame getting my warm fuckin groove on to the beats of his lectures.

I WAS PULLING HIPTWISTED FUCKIN RHYTHMS AT THE END OF HIS STRINGS.

but i carved him out of my think pan with the same harshwicked blade that all up and severed the lines he sewed through my fuckin neck.

NOW HE CAN’T SEE THROUGH ME.

now i can’t hear the majesty of his wrecked lullaby.

I DON’T WANT ANYTHING TO DO WITH MY MOTHERFUCKIN TRUTH.

but i don’t know what the motherfuck i’m supposed to believe in now.

THE UNSCRATCHABLE ITCH IS STILL UP AND INTRUDING MY BUSINESS LIKE THE RUDE MOTHERFUCKER IT IS, ETCHING THE SCRIPTURE OF MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS INTO THE SIDES OF MY MOTHERFUCKIN PAN.

it wants me to grind the special stardust and paint the wicked pictures and spin flesh using spooled veins of the heretics as fuckin threads.

I NEED SLUDGE DOWN MY MOTHERFUCKIN PROTEIN CHUTE TO KEEP FROM THINKING ALL THE MOTHER FUCKIN TIME.

mute the noises bouncing all up in my think pan like carousels spinning to the chucklewhip beat drop of bad fuckin news.

GAMZEE, WE’VE BEEN THROUGH THIS BEFORE. YOU’RE NOT GOING BACK TO LIVING YOUR LIFE WHACKED OUT ON FUCKING SOPOR.

I WON’T LET YOU.

I KNOW IT’S HARD. AND I KNOW IT’S ONLY GETTING WORSE BECAUSE WE’RE GETTING OLDER.

IF THIS WAS ALTERNIA, YOU’D BE ENTERING THE GOVERNMENT RANKS AS THE HIGHBLOOD YOU ARE, AND AS THOROUGHLY FUCKING UNSETTLING AS THE PROSPECT IS, WHAT YOU’RE GOING THROUGH RIGHT NOW IS PROBABLY COMPLETELY NORMAL FOR YOUR CASTE.

BUT THIS IS OUR FUCKING UNIVERSE AND THERE IS A PLACE FOR YOU IN IT WITHOUT HAVING YOU DELIBERATELY BORKED OUT OF YOUR FUCKING THINK PAN.

AND TO BE HONEST I THINK I’VE FOUND IT.

I THINK I’VE FOUND WHERE YOU BELONG.

OH?

will you be there?

DUH.

I’M YOUR MOIRAIL, AREN’T I.

WE DIDN’T MAKE IT THIS FAR FOR ME TO JUST LEAVE YOU BEHIND.

You tilt your neck to rest your head on top of his. His entire body rumbles with grouchy noises when you do, but he makes no effort to move out from under you.

YOU’RE THE SHARPEST BLADE IN THE HARSHWICKED BASKET, BEST BRO.

when i find my mellow freakcaprice grounds blazing in silent fuckin heresy to the shadowbeats, it’ll be us watching it burn.

JUST YOU AND MOTHERFUCKING ME.

just me and motherfuckin you.

After a few moments of quiet, he reaches over to hug you around your shoulders. The scratching in your head silences completely.

You drop your bow to the sands below, and you forget why you were here.


	6. ==> Jade: RSVP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bit of a time trying to characterize Jade properly, I hope I did a good job! Reviews are loved, concrit is encouraged! Feedback on characterization in particular! <3

  
**== > Jade: RSVP.**   


Your gloved hands are slick with grease and oil, and you seriously do not have time for this bullshit.

You roll your mechanic creeper out from under your project and adjust your goggles, the black on your fingertips smearing along the rim. The bright green projection of the chat client spreads out much clearer in front of you, up towards the ceiling. The way the creeper’s plastic digs into your back is much more pronounced now that you aren’t preoccupied fiddling with your latest contraption. You’d much rather be fiddling than dealing with this.

GG: i cant believe you actually told him!!  
TG: in my defence the entire conversation was like a car crash  
TG: everything was smooth roads before the topic of you came up  
TG: then he drove lovedrunk until he fruedian slipped right into a telephone pole  
GG: makes sense seeing as youre a massive BLOCKHEAD!!!!  
TG: that was bad  
GG: shut up!!!  
GG: why would you tease him about something i explicitly told you in confidence????  
GG: god dave you seriously crossed the line here!  
TG: okay okay  
TG: look  
TG: im sorry  
GG: you should be x(  
TG: im sorry hes still asspained about you turning him down  
GG: dave, fuck!!!

Scalie, your blue iguana consort, skitters to tower above you. He offers you a dark red workcloth. You bundle up said workcloth and scream into it.

Several years ago, before the end of your previous universe, the boy had taken the last possible minute to confess his feelings for you. He thought it was really romantic or something, but you shot him down for addressing you in such a manner while he was still on the rocks with his girlfriend. Besides, you couldn't date someone who hated themselves so much--it was exhausting just trying to talk some sense into him, you couldn’t imagine how Terezi put up with it.

The only person you ever told about the incident was Dave, and yesterday, he let this knowledge slip to Karkat as the troll pestered him for the first time in ages to confront him about various chatlogs. Apparently, Dave and Terezi started talking sometime after your explicit forwarded instructions from Sollux that they _weren’t allowed to do that_. And who was the one who had to deal with Karkat’s massive fit after he found out Dave knew? Definitely not Dave!

To top it off, Dave had such a hard time accepting the fact he could be just as gigantic an idiot as the next person, he couldn’t even apologize to you properly! His shitty coolkid attitude never changed, even when it came down to the really important things! And he wonders why you two didn’t work out.

You hand your workcloth back to Scalie and look back up at the screen. You could feel another migrane coming on.

TG: harley  
TG: are you still there  
\-- gardenGnostic [GG] is now an idle chum! --  
TG: harley dont start with the silent treatment  
TG: have you ever even won a round of the quiet game  
TG: i didnt mean that  
TG: if you feel like getting back to me sometime im all ears  
TG: what kind of phrase is all ears anyway  
TG: you cant be all eyes or all nose that is grammatical sensory discrimination right there  
TG: the vision all ears inspires isnt great either  
TG: some inbred massively deformed defect of auditory excellence from a wes craven set  
TG: shit he could be a new batman villain  
TG: terrorizing the streets of gotham with his ugly  
TG: only way to defeat him is with the giant qtip from american gladiators and miley cyrus on repeat play  
TG: jade  
TG: fuck im sorry for blabbing about your secret okay  
TG: he was rambling about some convo i had with tz  
TG: it was fine until he asked what you ever saw in me  
TG: i said more than you saw in him  
TG: then he ragequit  
TG: what got to me was the implication youd told him you were into me at the time  
TG: i didnt know you told him that  
TG: i didnt know you told anyone that

Scalie generously rubs your temples for you.

Karkat only took that news well because it was in alignment with his stupid shipping chart, a fact which you absolutely hated.

GG: karkat shouldnt have said that to you...  
GG: but that doesnt give you an excuse :(  
TG: i know  
TG: he wasnt too much of a dick to you about it was he  
GG: siiiiiiiigh......  
GG: no  
GG: actually...  
GG: he seemed more upset that i told you about it above the fact i told anyone at all!  
TG: you dont say  
GG: he told me he got mad at you for flirting with terezi  
GG: soooooooooo.......  
GG: youve been talking to terezi, have you??  
TG: before you continue chugging down that train of thought let me throw on my conductors cap here and say that i know you and nubby horns have been chatting it up for a least a week  
TG: so  
TG: theres that  
GG: hehe okay you got me!  
GG: were just friends though!!  
TG: none of my business  
GG: heeeeey whats that supposed to mean??  
TG: nothing  
TG: i better go  
TG: there was a trail of feathers left from my front door up the stairs to the roof this morning  
GG: was there anything on the roof :o  
TG: a shitload of dead birds  
GG: oh my god thats terrible!!!!  
GG: what happened???  
TG: no idea  
TG: its like someone invited half the crows in the city for an avian flu rooftop bonanza  
GG: are you sure the poor birdies werent just innocent victims of your shitty swords....  
TG: trust me i think id remember slaughtering these guys  
GG: thats so freaky......  
GG: who would do something like that??  
TG: your guess is as good as mine  
TG: anyway i gotta get them cleaned up before the party tonight  
TG: youre still coming right  
GG: duh :p  
TG: k

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering gardenGnostic [GG] \--

You shut off the chat client and slide off your goggles. You probably should’ve been busy letting Sollux know his program worked, but.

You get up from your creeper. After tugging off your gloves, finger by finger, you scoop up your little consort in your arms while making your way to the kitchen, cuddling him from the front because, boy, were his back spikes sharp!

come on scalie mommy needs some acetylsalicylic acid...

_thip thipthip thip_

hmmmmmmm what do you want?

_thipthip thip_

are those all you ever eat??

_thip thip thip thip_

hehehehe okay okay no need to get snippy with me mister!!

You hold him up and nuzzle noses before sitting him on the counter. You were thankful, having your consort here. It made home feel much less empty.

Stacks of various gadgetry littered the tabletops. Wires are strewn just about everywhere. Blossoming plants are hanging from the ceiling, vines wrap around the columns, and guns rest in piles all around your floors (arranged by caliber, of course). Your house is suspended in organized chaos, and it was just the way you liked it.

You spend nearly all of your time indoors, nowadays.

You used to think school was the most important adjustment you had to make in order to be normal in this universe. Being able to see John and Dave every day was pretty fun, but all in all, you learned nothing you didn’t already know, or at least nothing you couldn't have learned with an internet connection and a library card. The rigid program structure and daily schedules didn’t agree with you, you soon found out you weren’t exactly the best standardized-test-taker out there, and all your peer relationships left much to be desired. The other kids didn’t like you because you were smart. The dislike compounded further because your interests weren’t commonplace. The fact you couldn’t strife within school grounds didn’t help your case.

One day, the bullying went a little too far. You arrived at school that morning with a bruised cheek. Dave left school that afternoon with torn-up knuckles.

The incident initiated a discussion with Rose, and she introduced you to the novel concept that the public education system was, contrary to its intent, not for everyone.

So, a few months ago, after you graduated high school, you started building.

Engineering was something that came naturally to you, it was something you couldn't stop yourself from doing. Now that you were out of school, you could spend both your time and your outrageous amounts of money making your projects grow more and more complex. You were building some pretty outrageous stuff right now! And with Dave and John now in University, you could borrow access to post-secondary libraries and resources, where you were left absolutely free to absorb.

You have a bowl of water chestnuts in one hand, two aspirin in the other.

Everything was going pretty okay for you, so far.

-

4ND TH4T 1S WHY TH1S D1RTY STOOG3 N33DS TO B3 BROUGHT TO JUST1C3!

Terezi was standing on her chair, one hand on her tiny waist and the other balled into a determined fist. You all had fallen silent around the lace-clothed table as she recited what was essentially her entire investigation thesis in aggressive, violent detail. Rose pursed her lips, looking bemused behind her cucumber finger sandwich. Dave and Kanaya sipped their tea in time with one another, holding both their pinkies out. You nibble with caution on a homemade biscuit and wonder if Dave’s simple question of so whats new with you was aimed at the troll on purpose.

On that note, you wonder if Dave invited no one but girls to his party on purpose.

So instead of government employed police officers as we have in human culture, the majority of troll investigations are handled by amateur legislacerators in training?

3X4CTLY

What if you’re wrong and you end up executing the wrong suspect?

TH3R3 4R3 POW3RFUL PSYCH1CS TH4T WORK 1N TH1S BUS1N3SS

1F YOUR3 FOUND WRONG YOU 4R3 PROMPTLY CULL3D 4ND SW3PT UND3R TH3 GROUND W4RM1NG STR1P W1TH TH3 R3ST OF TH3 F41LUR3S

B3S1D3S

1V3 N3V3R B33N WRONG

Terezi sits back down. She lifts her cup to her lips and leans back in her chair, lapping noisily at the liquid.

(The tea of choice at this party was bright red.)

(You wonder if Dave did that on purpose, too.)

TH3S3 P4ST F3W SW33PS H4V3 B33N F1LL3D W1TH SM4LL T1M3RS

P3TTY TH31V3S, 1LL3G4L HUNT3RS

TH1S 1S MY F1RST MURD3R C4S3

1F 1 C4TCH TH1S SNORKGLUBB1NG H1GHBLOOD, MY H4RROWFOL1O W1LL M33T TH3 SUFF1C13NT R3QU1R3M3NTS FOR SUBM1SS1ON TO TH3 4LT3RN14N JUST1C3 L34GU3

Dave snorts into his tea.

WH4T

WH4TS SO FUNNY

what are you going to do after you catch them wondergirl hang them from your golden lasso

DONT B3 STUP1D D4V3 GOLD3N ROP3 1S COMPL3T3LY 1MPR4CT1C4L

DO YOU KNOW WH4T K1ND OF G4LLOWS WOULD N33D TO B3 CONSTRUCT3D 1N ORD3R TO 4D3QU4T3LY SUPPORT TH3 T3NS1ON OF GOLD NOOS3S

i dont know the golden kind

steel maybe

actually a pure golden rope would be as useless as fuck most you can do is maybe have one gold threaded

you can hang your neer do wells with gold rope from a silver overhead

that shits poetic justice right there

poetic as balls

4S PO3T1C 4S 34RTH PL4YSPH3R3S M4Y OR M4Y NOT B3 1 H4V3 4 JOB TO DO

DO 1 LOOK L1K3 4 H1GHBLOOD TRY1NG TO 1MPR3SS 4N 4UD13NC3

3X3CUT1ON G4LLOWS 4R3 WOOD3N

UNL3SS OF COURS3 YOU KNOW HOW TO BU1LD ON3 OUT OF ST33L

DO YOU KNOW SOM3TH1NG 1 DONT D4V3

She folds her hands beneath her chin. The way her skinny eyebrows furrow together is nothing short of sinister.

It doesn’t seem to phase him in the slightest.

hey dont look at me ive got zero experience with this shit

i built a birdhouse once

it turned into a beehouse for no apparent reason and my bro and i used to use it to play fetch the honey

ask harley shes the metalhound

yeah terezi i can sketch you some blueprints!!

but it might take a few days...

i got a shipment of uranium in this morning and i wanted to put it to use as soon as possible but dave invited me to his ironic tea party so i told the 238 nucleus i had to split!!

You are too busy laughing to realize you are the only one who is busy laughing.

That Is A Very Fascinating Fashion Accessory

The dog ears sitting on top of your head perk up and beep twice.

oh! you mean my disequilibrium detectors!!

You give a shy giggle, raising your hand to hover near the equipment. The ears were covered in (fake!!) white fur and were of a modest size; aside from a couple of visible bolts and the slight mechanical noise they made when they moved, they looked convincingly realistic and felt very natural to you for some strange reason you were definitely not aware of.

they help point out any instabilities within the area!

i use them when im building to help detect electrical or mechanical or isotopic contradictions on whatever im working on

hehehehe i mustve forgotten i had them on!

They Do Add A Subtle Barkbeast Aura To Your Outfit

Albeit One It Did Not Necessarily Need

Kanaya takes another quiet sip of her tea; she lowers her cup to reveal an accidental tea moustache, one which probably would have been undetectable if it weren’t for the bright white glowing of her skin.

Rose hums her amusement into the bread of her sandwich. Kanaya raises an eyebrow.

Is Something The Matter

Not at all.

(Your ears beep twice, again.)

Are You Certain

The Noise You Made Was Knowing As If You Were Aware Of Something I Am Not

That is an extraordinarily astute observation, am I to believe you possess a mastery of passive vocal intrusions or are you making bold assumptions in the hopes of achieving some shade of accuracy?

I Was Not Aware Such Mastery Existed Thus I Am Inclined To Say No To The First

Also It Would Be Bold To Claim I Was Bold And In This Double Affirmation I Am Equally Free To Double Deny It

Those double Ds are dangerous.

Quite

Rose drinks from her cup. She gives herself a tea moustache on obvious purpose, one which probably would have been undetectable if it weren’t for the pale light grey of her skin.

Kanaya opens her eyes a little wider.

Um

Rose You Have A Little

Rose tilts her head in innocence.

I’m sorry?

No Need For An Apology At Least Not Until You Have Pinpointed The Exact Problem

There Has Been Some Careless Handling Of Tea On Your Part

In One Area In Particular

Come again? I didn't quite catch that.

(Beep beep.)

You Have Tea On Your Lip

Right H

Kanaya touches her upper lip to demonstrate, only to realize she has a tea moustache as well; her bright skin only accentuates the dark green blush that tints her cheeks.

Is This An Uncanny Coincidence Or Yet Another Underhanded Way Of Informing Me Of Something

Rose makes the same humming noise from before, taking another bite from her sandwich.

Drat

For what it’s worth, it makes you look very distinguished.

I Would Return The Sentiment But The Effort Would Instantly Be Rendered Meaningless

Oh?

You Always Look Distinguished

That’s very kind of you to say.

Im Only Pointing Out The Obvious

You Would Not Think It Kind For One To Say The Sky Was Blue

Depends on the circumstances. It would be kind if you were, say, speaking to someone who was blind.

No offence, Terezi.

GOD TH1S T34 1S SO GOOD

I Fail To See What Relevance This Anecdote Serves

Are You Implying You Are Blind To Your Own Distinguished Nature

How Do You Dress Yourself So Adequately

I have several mobile circular racks in my closet. Every morning is an exciting game of chance. Like Russian Roulette, with class.

Your Foreign Gambling Serves You Well

You Must Allow Me To Contribute To Your Mobile Circular Rack I Know A Colour That Would Look Lovely On You

Dark green?

Absolutely Not A Dark Colour Would Only Serve To Wash You Out Where Did That Suggestion Even Arise

My mistake. Please, feel free to bless me with your astounding fashion wisdom any day of the week. God knows I require the intervention.

No Intervention Only Supplement

Quite.

You’re sitting close enough to Rose to notice the gentle smirk that tugs on her red-stained lips.

With an incomprehensible _naknak nak_ , Chad waddles over to refill your cup; you have a slow drink of your tea, your narrowed eyes shifting to stare at Dave over your rim.

He takes another prolonged sip from his own teacup, pinky out.

You are now very thoroughly convinced he’d done this all on purpose.


	7. ==> [s] Terezi: Attempt a highly impractical 3X SHOWDOWN COMBO.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though this chapter has been planned since the beginning, its exposition is very strongly inspired by [The Last Hearing of Gamzee Makara](http://archiveofourown.org/works/275898/chapters/437228), a bloody brilliant excursion in blackrom that is worth your time reading, if you have not yet read it already. Reviews are loved, concrit encouraged.

  
**== > [[s]](http://dl.dropbox.com/u/21648061/Roundabout.mp3) Terezi: Attempt a highly impractical 3X SHOWDOWN COMBO.**   


twinArmageddons [TA] began pestering gallowsCalibrator at 04:51.

TA: Hey tee see.  
TA: See.  
TA: Zee.  
GC: >:?  
TA: Thulian.  
TA: Saw reel.  
TA: Sorry.  
TA: I’m testing out thins text to speech thrash screen reader and for thumb raisin you’re the only one online right now.  
TA: Sure guys use the shit out of my chat client juice not when I’m around.  
TA: Holy shit thrift div ice is complete ash.  
TA: This.  
TA: Device.  
TA: Ass.  
TA: Fuck.  
TA: I wish I thrill had the one I used before we left our thespian.  
TA: Session session session session session.  
GC: 1 DONT UND3RST4ND H4LF OF WH4T YOU JUST S41D BUT H1

twinArmageddons’s [TA’s] peripheral device exploded.

GC: OH  
GC: W3LL TH1S 1S 4WKW4RD

twinArmageddons [TA] is now an idle chum.

GC: SOLLUX  
GC: 4RE YOU OK4Y  
TA: solluxcantcometothecomputerightnow  
GC: F1N3  
GC: 1S TH1S WHO 1 TH1NK 1T 1S

twinArmageddons [TA] has changed their font color.

TA: yes  
GC: 4DV1SOR GR4P3FL4M3  
GC: W3 M33T 4G41N >:]  
TA: hiyourhonorhowareyou  
GC: GOOD  
GC: C4RRY1NG OUT SOM3 P3RSON4L DR4CON14N BUS1N3SS TON1GHT 4S 4 M4TT3R OF F4CT  
GC: WH3R3S SOLLUX  
TA: ohesrightnextome  
TA: sayingalotofwordswhicharenotnice  
TA: ithinkyourquirkbrokehiscreenreader  
GC: OOPS  
GC: OH W3LL 1 L1K3D H1S B1N4RY TH1NG B3TT3R 4NYW4Y  
GC: MORPHOLOG1C4LLY FL4WL3SS WR1T1NG 4LW4YS T4ST3S 4 L1TTL3 L1K3 M3D1C1N3  
GC: BLUUUUUUUUH  
GC: B3S1D3S 4 T3XT TO SP33CH D3V1C3 1S US3L3SS S1NC3 H1S F4NGS GR3W B4CK 1N  
GC: UNL3SS YOU W4NT3D TO DO H1M 4 F4VOR  
TA: whatkindofavor  
GC: HOW H4RD C4N YOU PUNCH H1M 1N TH3 F4C3  
TA: notvery  
TA: ihavesmallhands  
GC: NOT W1TH YOUR F1STS STUP1D YOUR3 4 DR4GON 4R3NT YOU  
TA: akomododragon  
GC: BUT 4 DR4GON NON3TH3L3SS  
GC: PUNCH H1M 1N TH3 F4C3 W1TH YOUR T41L  
TA: yourhonoridonthinkhedlikethatverymuch  
GC: DO 1T 4NYW4Y  
TA: areyousurethiswillwork  
GC: 1 H4V3 4 KN4CK FOR KNOW1NG TH3S3 TH1NGS  
GC: 1M TH3 ON3 WHO T4UGHT YOU HOW TO TYP3 W1TH YOUR TONGU3 R3M3MB3R  
GC: S1NC3 WH3N H4V3 1 3V3R L34D YOU 4STR4Y  
GC: TRUST M3 >:]  
TA: wellokay  
TA: yeahedidntlikethatatall  
TA: nowhesonthefloorsayingwhyoverandoveragain  
GC: D1D YOU KNOCK H1S L1SPY T33TH OUT  
TA: ithinkso  
TA: theresblood  
TA: helooksmad  
GC: H3LL G3T OV3R 1T  
GC: T3LL H1M H3 C4N TH4NK M3 L4T3R  
TA: okay  
TA: imgoingtoleavenow  
GC: BY3 4DV1SOR  
TA: goodbyeyourhonor

twinArmageddons [TA] ceased pestering gallowsCalibrator at 05:34.

-

You pay him a visit in the dead of night, the time frame that straddles “late” and “early” as sunlight whispers secrets to a leaking purple sky. He’s often awake now, tying off your Trollchum conversation with mentions of the following day’s plans, tangled clumsily in a web of pseudo-romantic good morning drudgery, but tonight, you’re bringing the conversation to him.

Tonight, you come bearing a gift.

Karkat had spent the past several moonrises helping you build gallows in your forest. Jade’s blueprints outlined several upgrades which made construction more time consuming. Karkat never denied you. These days, he was willing to do nearly anything you asked of him, if only as tacit compensation for the one thing he refused to.

Imperial Drones did not exist in this universe; nearly three sweeps had passed since the game, and he still felt uncomfortable “rushing” into things.

He might’ve been a little coward, but he was your little coward.

You’re shifting your walking stick out in front of you; there’s a jump in vibration between the shifting of dirt beneath lawnring grass and the stone sidewalk. You tap your cane up each of his six front steps until you’re standing at the entrance of his hive.

Your vascular core kicks you from the inside.

Karkat Vantas is a cautious troll, a thorough troll, a troll who will declare his superiority and dictate your flaws in vocabulary elaborate, with exponentially increasing excessiveness if he can put the words in front of himself before they appear before you. His text colour was still as dusty as the symbols on his shirts, as the cultural ideals clinking around in his big empty head, as his understanding of what it meant not to be so goddamned paranoid.

Karkat Vantas is not a troll who would leave his hive’s front door wide open.

You rush inside, pushing your back to the wall and holding your cane behind your arm like a hidden blade, ready and willing to give any unwelcome visitor a healthy drubbing. Proceed with caution!

The door of his respiteblock is ajar; the smell of lime tickles your nose before you push it open. Everything is tinted with the glowing warmth of the husktop sitting atop the nightstand, lending its light to the scene before you. Not that the added light really mattered.

You were blind, remember?

( _Far corner. On the floor. Up against the wall._ )

Karkat normally had a cool bittersweetness about him. He was a bundle of nerves and muscle wound tight enough to make him move a bit like a pigeon, sudden and jarring, punctuating the air around him with a continuously wavering scent.

But now, he is seated in the clothed lap of another, and he is very, very still.

It takes you a moment to recognize this as sleep, it’s so wholly unfamiliar to witness ( _he’s never done that in front of you before_ ). Karkat’s clinging like an infant ursidbeast, his arms too short to reach fully around the larger troll, his head nestled against the rise and fall of the breathing chest beneath him. You deny the fact you want to smell blood ( _you’re better than that, of course you are_ ), you’re above wanting the smallest pinch of cherry to give you the slightest excuse. No matter how much you certainly _don’t_ want it, there’s nothing, ( _how can there be nothing_ ), nothing but soothing breaths of peace and calm and _goddamned lime_.

There are two heartbeats in front of you, and they are synched.

keep quiet, big sister. hate to see what would happen if my best motherfuckin bro was jilted from his whimsydrift to dreamland.

You're immune to the pierce of Gamzee’s half-lidded indigo gaze, you've been stung by it too many times.

His hair has grown wilder, messier, a sharp, tangled mane of black interrupted at two points at the front by the long, waved lengths of his horns. He’s built much stronger than he was when he first left the game as little more a thin pile of faygo-and-sopor-fuelled bones. He grew to be the tallest out of all of you.

He wraps his thick arms tighter around Karkat’s infinitely more fragile body, and you swear you hear the other boy--the smaller boy, _your_ boy--sigh with a content you never realized you’ve longed for.

You rid yourself of the scowl begging to make its way onto your lips.

4nd how long h4s th1s b33n go1ng on, m1st3r m4k4r4

couple of sweeps.

any helltainted morning when my main motherfucker has trouble getting his snooze on.

wh1ch h4s b33n 3v3ry morn1ng s1nc3 th3 g4m3

only drop in when your cherryglare is on the lockdown, big sister.

last thing we want is a nasty scene conning us into shit one of us will end up regretting.

Gamzee’s exhales are calm and steady, planned and predicted. The overpowering sharpness of citrus burns your senses; the room is filled with the green of his breathing.

to what do we owe the crookfest honor of you gracing my moirail’s hive with your righteous motherfuckin presence?

His tone rumbles from the depths of his throat, a soft growl cushioning his every word. It was once a vague sort of stage voice he donned for intimidation, but the sweeps passed and it had become a part of him, as had the heavy glares, as had the constant aura of murderous intent.

The small plush dragon in your opposite hand has a jet black body, with a mild grey staining his front and the bottoms of his feet. His back scales, claws, and button eyes were dyed bright red, and so was his symbol, stitched on the front of his chest.

You rest Leader Scythefang on Karkat’s nightstand, next to his computer with a tiny _squeak_ , before you make your way across the room, keeping your stick off the ground. The trembling from your walking cane was a formal method of comfort at best, a perpetual evocation of a primary sense--touch, instead of sight--to experience as you walked. But the mysterious acidic scent on Gamzee’s breath mixed with the off-bitter eggplant of his unfaltering gaze was more than enough to process at once. His eyes follow you as move to tower before them; he watches like a feral canine guarding a scrap of food.

dont p4tron1z3 m3 m4k4r4

1m h3r3 to congr4tul4t3 h1m

th3 3mploym3nt 4g3ncy h3 v1s1t3d c4ll3d b4ck ton1ght 4nd

they want to bring him in, feed him a few select motherfuckin questions to process his application to the fleet.

he was real fuckin nervous about his first interview but chilled out when he got there ‘cause the human handling his intake had a handshake that was

“str4ng3ly fuck1ng f4m1l14r”

Stale smugness would’ve hung in the air if he was capable of expressing it; instead, he offers another growl of acknowledgement, short and deep. The envy slithers up your vertebral column, twining and coiling and growing inside of you until your posture straightened and your fingertips shook. You don’t know why you were surprised that he knew; out of everyone, Karkat was the highest at risk for blabbing the mundane to any close friend who would listen. Perhaps it was the fact that Gamzee would forever know more about Karkat than anyone ever would. The realization that no matter how bold your quadrant became, your bond would never be as unbreakable as the one they shared. The notion that Karkat would never look that peaceful in your arms.

h3 sh4r3s 3v3ryth1ng w1th you

every little motherfuckin thing.

d1d you t3ll h1m 4bout th3 crows

right the fuck next to me plucking up the arrows stuck through their unclean motherfuckin bodies.

y3s, but do3s h3 know wh4t you d1d w1th th3m

His breath stops for the smallest of moments and for the smallest of moments there is _triumph_.

come again, big sister?

Your tiny smile is gaining ground across your face.

do3s k4rk4t know how pol1sh3d bl4ck you 4r3 for d4v3

He doesn’t break eye contact. The silence is fleeting.

4h4!

just 4s 1 susp3ct3d

boy, m4k4r4, you 4r3 s3tt1ng yours3lf up for s3r1ous d1s4ppo1ntm3nt

1f you th1nk 4 hum4n could 3v3r r3c1proc4t3 4 prop3r bl4ckrom your3 4 b1gg3r fool th4n 1 thought

His expression eases into something less tense as he reads the microscopic traces of ulterior emotion on your face like they’re neon billboards. You’re already missing the ground you gained and what it felt like beneath your feet.

you’re crimson.

what a motherfuckin miracle. you and my moirail, together again.

how motherfuckin romantic.

Jealousy burns creases in your forehead, and his chuckle is knowing.

your flushed quadrant keeps flickering, big sister, my eyes aren’t motherfuckin blind, not like yours.

you and this panshaken brother of mine break suit over and over and over and over and over and over and over again like matespritship was a motherfuckin game.

on and off and red and blank and high and low.

it’s motherfuckin disgusting, is what it is.

moirallegiance ain’t like that noise, this sindazzle diamond sparkles from any angle you all up and encroach it from.

he gets me stable and i give him stability and he keeps the motherfuckin nightmares away and i help him motherfuckin dream.

useless trying to pretend our slice of red is any brighter than it is. useless trying pretend your shitpoor motherfuckin excuse of a quadrant is any paler.

careful, big sister, those little feet of yours are throwing a motherfuckin dance party down eridan’s ground, just getting their wicked delusional rhythm on in a different motherfuckin direction.

stop trying to mark territory that ain’t yours to motherfuckin begin with.

my darker dabbling is none of your motherfuckin concern, no matter how loudly you pray to your justicehead godfigures wishing for my crash and burn.

4nd th3r3 l13s your f1rst m1st4k3

1m not w1sh1ng for you to f41l

1m count1ng on you to

bold motherfuckin bet.

my memory’s been melded sharp with warhammer against flipstone, it’s telling me you’re a terrible motherfuckin judge of character.

1v3 n3v3r b33n wrong

correction, big sister.

you’re not wrong anymore.

Vriska’s wings flutter before your mind’s eye, just as he wanted them to.

Your walking cane makes a sharp noise when you whip it out in front of you; it hovers, dead straight above the back of your matesprit’s head, unwavering in front of his moirail’s face. Gamzee doesn’t flinch.

th3 4sphyx14t1on of th3 h1ghblood`

th3 t4m1ng of th3 l1on

your pet cases have nicknames, isn’t that motherfuckin quaint.

k4rk4t h4s don3 h1s job 1n pr3v3nt1ng furth3r murd3rs but h3 wont b3 4round to k33p you 1n l1n3 4ll th3 t1m3

w4x1ng bl4ck for 4 hum4n 1s 4 countdown to your conv1ct1on

thr33 str1k3s m4k4r4

on3 mor3 sl1p 4nd your3 m1n3

He tilts his head and drags his tongue, slow, along the end of your walking cane. Eye contact is maintained. The honesty in his chuckle is what unsettles you the most.

will i get to see those pretty motherfuckin steel gallows of hers in person, your honor?

You feel your eyes narrow as you grip your cane tighter.

k33p push1ng m3, m4k4r4

The tension is broken by the sound of a Trollchum notification.

Karkat stirs.

You and Gamzee glance down at him and look back at one another before turning to face Karkat’s open husktop. You both knew if the noise repeated itself, it might be loud enough to wake him.

You yank your cane back to your side and maintain a brisk pace as you walk over to mute the computer.

A quick lick of the monitor splashes Nostalgic Blue Raspberry across the edge of your tongue.

EB: hi karkat!

Brief reconsideration.

Your current situation slips priority as the corners of your mouth curl to a widening grin.

It’s been so long since you and John have had a nice chat.


	8. ==> Aradia: Spot a star. Spot another one. Get bored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals kicked my ass.
> 
> That's really all there is to say on the matter.
> 
> Reviews are loved, concrit encouraged!
> 
> (Fanart obviously traced from a canon Feferi panel.)

  
**== > Aradia: Spot a star. Spot another one. Get bored.**   


turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering apocalypseArisen [AA] at 19:44.

AA: hello!  
TG: hey  
TG: can you talk  
AA: youve caught me at an awkward time  
AA: im in the middle of a very important errand right now but i can spare a minute  
TG: more like seven and a half  
AA: impressive!  
AA: when did you figure out you could do that  
TG: dunno  
TG: it comes and goes  
TG: anyway whats got you so busy lately  
TG: had a party a couple of days ago youre the only one who didnt show  
AA: oh right sorry about that  
AA: i had to work late that night  
TG: classic excuse  
TG: rip my heart out and leave me to bleed why dont you  
AA: you dont even like tea!  
TG: beside the point  
TG: i offered you a spot at my lacy table and you cut me short  
TG: you pushed away the doily of peace megido  
TG: who are you having tea with behind my back you no good cheating bastard  
AA: oh where do i start  
AA: i had tea with so many people in my absence from your party  
AA: i cant remember any of their names right now but they are all much better at brewing than you are  
TG: blasphemy  
TG: since when did you have a job  
AA: since about a year ago!  
AA: sollux referred me to his employment agency to find something that could occupy all my free time  
AA: i wouldve gotten a job a lot earlier but my agent refused to book me for any interviews until i took his recommendation and switched out my entire wardrobe  
AA: i didnt even have a wardrobe  
AA: either way i think ive really found my calling!  
AA: its quiet and relaxed  
AA: i find it hard to believe no one wanted the position  
TG: whered you end up getting hired  
AA: the morgue  
TG: wow  
TG: alright  
TG: not that this conversation hasnt been the most stimulating thing since the discovery channel aired an uncensored documentary on turkish grease wrestling  
AA: 0_0  
TG: but i have five minutes and fourty six seconds before you disconnect on me and ive got a question i need to ask you  
TG: something thats been itching for the past week  
TG: tests all came back negative doc maybe you can tell me whats causing the burning sensation when i pee  
AA: shoot  
TG: why did it take so long for us to get back into contact  
TG: egberts been working his derpy butt off with that little satellite program of his  
TG: picked up nothing but 384 cable channels and a spanish radio station for years imagine our surprise when his half baked gadgetry actually tracks you guys down  
TG: the others i sort of get but youre a god of time  
TG: youve navigated through a lot more complicated shit to find people and youre expecting me to believe you had no clue we were here  
AA: of course i knew you were here!  
AA: i actually knew exactly where you all were from the moment we landed but considering the state of this world everyone assumed the best and moved on  
AA: i had no reason to interfere before it was time for us to meet again  
TG: no reason  
TG: we werent enough of a reason for you  
AA: sollux was upset with me when he found out too  
AA: i dont understand why  
AA: i knew our reunion was such an inevitability getting everyone together beforehand never crossed my mind  
AA: i just always knew it was a matter of time!  
AA: but the point is were all together now  
AA: and together we will wait  
TG: for what  
AA: the aftereffects of the resurfacing virus  
AA: its been incubating for a while  
AA: i suspect it shouldnt take much longer than a few weeks before we feel the reverb  
TG: so the game isnt over  
TG: color me surprised  
AA: of course the game isnt over  
AA: it will never be over  
AA: the game brings about the creation and initiates the destruction of entire universes  
AA: so long as we are alive we exist in one of these universes no matter what isolate timeline we force said universe into  
AA: but youve always known this  
TG: yeah  
TG: i guess i have  
TG: everyone got on with their lives while ive been back here waiting for the end of times to bear down on us so i can finally sit inside all warm and cozy and bake myself up an apocalypse cake  
TG: everything outside goes up in flames and here i am decorating pastry with bright blue icing  
TG: “told you fuckers”  
AA: oh theres not going to be an apocalypse  
TG: theres not  
AA: no nothing like that  
AA: not if everything goes the way it should  
AA: see were living in sort of a glitch right now  
AA: a universe thrown outside the boundaries of the game  
AA: but being part of an alpha timeline carries with it certain responsibilities  
AA: when i helped activate solluxs program we essentially put the game on pause  
TG: let me guess its our responsibility to unpause it right  
AA: ours  
AA: mainly yours  
TG: the surprised crayon is a nib now megido  
TG: youve nibbed it  
AA: sorry!  
AA: though i must say youre handling this all well  
TG: whats there to handle  
TG: you take the thing ive been dreading for the past several years  
TG: wrap it up in blanket of calmness  
TG: drop it on my front porch with an index card that reads “sorry” in mastered calligraphy  
TG: im minding my own damn business in the shower when the knock comes  
TG: ive got my door open and my guard down while im half naked staring at this ding dong ditch delivery of “inconsiderate son of a bitch in a basket” and never in my life have i ever wished harder for a flaming bag of dog shit instead  
TG: its an ugly troublesome fucking kid but its mine  
TG: dont really have much choice in the matter do i  
AA: none of us ever did really  
TG: i guess  
AA: one thing troubles me though  
TG: yeah whats that  
AA: the fact that im the one who had to tell you about this  
AA: i guess this means neither you nor rose have sorted out the meanings of your dreams yet?  
TG: hell you know about those too  
AA: not all the details  
AA: just that there was going to be some dream contact involved after we diverted  
AA: rose has a deal with the horrorterrors that transcends the timelines even if theres nothing but echoes of them left out here  
AA: this is why the darkness still creeps within her blood after her body died in game  
AA: you on the other hand  
TG: yeah what about me  
TG: she never told me what her dreams were about only that it was normal to have this kind of reaction  
TG: post traumatic stress disorder she says  
TG: see its this occasional human side effect of having your entire world thrown down the shitter  
TG: apparently itll give us nightmares and flashbacks for god knows how long  
AA: what are yours like  
TG: theyre stupid  
TG: if they dont make any sense to me they sure as hell wont to you  
AA: i wont laugh  
AA: dave?  
TG: fine  
TG: only because the timers ticking under three minutes and i have to get a slam dunk to get first down before you get sent to the penalty box for overtime  
TG: before the game i had this comic i drew  
AA: oh is this sweet bro and hella jeff?  
AA: terezi told me about it  
AA: i was wondering why she was posting these bizarre little edited pictures on the internet  
AA: she said it was because she missed the updates and for some reason she was convinced the pictures would lure you back  
AA: but go on  
TG: right  
TG: so before the game i had this comic i drew  
AA: right  
TG: the nightmares i have are messed up versions of my characters screeching in malformed voices i cant understand for shit  
TG: think sweet bro and hella jeff redesigned by junji ito continuously warping themselves beyond all recognition while speaking zalgo in high pitched dubstep remixed voices of the adults from charlie brown  
AA: um  
TG: its fourteen shades of fucking terrifying  
AA: well  
AA: maybe i can shed some light on the issue!  
AA: the resurfacing virus took a living instance of every player and transferred them to this isolate timeline  
AA: as heroes of time we are the only two players who were eligible to have several of our living instances transferred over at once  
AA: all of mine were memories in dream bubbles  
AA: memories dont have physical form so they were left behind  
AA: you have a plethora of alternate selves  
AA: but the majority of them were serving their purpose in time loops so they couldnt be transferred either  
AA: you only had three surviving instances on the timeline where we all fought jack  
AA: the first would be your normal wake self  
AA: the second would be your dream self  
AA: while the third  
AA: ...  
AA: im pausing for effect this is where you fill in the blank  
TG: wait  
TG: are you telling me this is the reason why every nightmare ive had for the past four years has been in shitty comic vision  
TG: because hes been trying to communicate with me this entire time  
AA: and things mightve been twisted beyond belief in the translation yes!  
AA: wonderful i think this revelation should be enough to wake your dream self  
AA: its a shame it took you so long to figure out  
AA: he must be very lonely by now  
AA: oh!  
AA: looks like someone will be trying to get a hold of me any second now  
AA: this is me taking a raincheck on that tea  
AA: earl grey with a dollop of honey  
AA: please and thank you!

apocalypseArisen [AA] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG] at 19:51.

TG: you have got to be fucking kidding me

-

You like the way the weightlessness of space feels against your wings.

You like the bright shades of colour that swirl with clouds of black and specks of white through his transparent skin.

You like the thundering reverberation of the vast croak which quakes you to your very core, a magnificent sound that would have deafened a lesser being.

You like the absolute silence that follows.

Your long, white, fluffy tail twitches as it receives a pester from a galaxy far, far away.

You have not decided whether or not you like the tail.

gardenGnostic [GG] began pestering apocalypseArisen [AA] at 19:52.

AA: what hath god wrought?  
AA: did i get that right  
GG: YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!  
GG: IT WORKS!!!! :DDDDDDD  
GG: i knew it would work!!  
GG: sollux kept telling me that because this universe works on the principles of basic physics it was virtually impossible for the transmission to reach you all the way out there!!  
GG: LOL now he owes me a beer  
AA: congratulations on your success!  
GG: thank you!! :)  
GG: i was up all night doing calibrations because the device needed to have a minimum set length to allow for the internal multiplication of oh never mind  
GG: the transponder isnt TOO too awkward to wear is it??  
AA: it works just fine!  
AA: flying with it on took some getting used to but its worth it if it means we can talk like this while i make my visits out here  
GG: :D  
GG: how does he look??  
AA: better  
AA: much better than he did in our previous session  
GG: whew  
GG: thats good  
GG: if were going to finish this game at least we have a healthy happy universe to work in!  
AA: definitely  
AA: since everythings clear up here im going to head back now  
GG: wait!!!  
GG: i know you want to keep this short because you have such a long trip back you must be exhausted just thinking about it :(  
GG: but dave and i spent soooooo much time trying to create him and take care of him but we never got to see him all grown up since  
GG: well we were sent straight to his tummy!  
GG: can you tell me what he looks like before you leave??  
GG: please please pleaaaaaaaase???  
AA: sure  
AA: hes big  
AA: very big  
AA: his eyes are space  
AA: and his body is also space  
GG: :O  
GG: soooooooooo coooooooooooool!!  
AA: the rounds of his eyes are flashing through nebulas and constellations  
AA: i think hes keeping an eye on things!  
AA: and theres a lot of blue   


AA: such a lovely shade of blue


	9. ==> [s] Davesprite: Don't think about elephants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First a foremost, a big shoutout to everyone who has and is considering to take the time to leave a review for this story. You are all wonderful and sweet and if it wasn't for your positive reaction, I doubt I would be writing this story. Thank you all so much.
> 
> Now get out your fat red markers and spot all the Inception references.
> 
> Reviews are loved, concrit encouraged!
> 
> PS I've started another mini-series called [Patronswap](http://archiveofourown.org/works/320491). Check it out if you like!

  
**== > [[s]](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ap_xYZLyCp0) Davesprite: Don't think about elephants.**   


He moved. You know he did.

You've built him up a bed from whatever you could find across on the checkered plane of Faux Skaia: sashes, blankets, charred flags, loose leaves, the abandoned sheathes of various weaponry. You've been watching him for a little while, now. Minutes. Hours, maybe. Time escapes you quickly these days.

You tried shaking his shoulder. You tried flying him to a height and jarring him with the sharp, sudden sensation of falling. You tried backslapping him across the face (perhaps a few more times than necessary). In spite of all your attempts, his body remained as loose and flimsy and pliable as it had been when you started, like a life-sized comatose Sleeping Beauty ragdoll decked out in tacky purple. You're beginning to doubt yourself, beginning to wonder if you imagined that subtle twitch of his index finger out the corner of your eye, the first sign of voluntary movement of his aside from breathing since some period of time longer than two years ago. Two years is when you stopped counting.

You're at the end of your rope at this point. You've resorted to laying down next to him in your carefully constructed resting place, your cheek propped up on your palm as you lazily begin poking his face with the end of your ghosty tail.

hey

hey

heeeeey

dude

wake up

cmon

The way he jolts up startles you. You flinch backwards, fluttering your wings.

He looks at your ethereal lower half as if you were an actualized figment of some half-remembered dream, some illusion dancing in the slumber of his eyes, like a child waking up Christmas morning to see Santa Claus standing over his bed in all his obese jolly red glory. It's hard to take him seriously with the Sweet Bros and Hella Jeffs you doodled in bright pink and green sharpie across his face when you were bored, but you bite back the will the laugh at him.

hey

sup

He glances around himself.

why am i in a nest

and wearing stupid pyjamas

You don't answer, even though you've rehearsed this moment in your mind a thousand times. This feels new, annoyingly new, and you hated being unprepared.

You switch out the environment to make him more comfortable. The flaming grounds of Skaia shift in a dizzying, split-second motion-blur, and in a flash, the both of you are idling in Faux Bedroom, the makeshift fabric-leaf-weapon nest replaced right out from under him, with a mattress and a familiar card-suited blanket.

He takes note of your silence and doesn't press the issue. You can't see his eyes behind his Stiller shades, but you feel his vision pass over you, lingering everywhere that wasn't your face: the healed hole in your abdomen which has faded to bare outline, the blood stains on the medallion around your neck, your gimp right wing. He wants to ask how you've been, but the sight of you leaves the question to die at the end of his lips. You aren't surprised.

you got hurt

you got old

hahaha sorry i thought we were playing the obvious game

The corner of his mouth twitches, half-grimace, half-smirk.

He's sitting upright and you notice he's taller now (of course he is); his jaw is stronger, more pronounced, his hair just like yours but still not quite (his is shaggier). His shitty glasses from that shitty actor aren't too big for his face anymore, not like they still were on yours. He's sporting a goatee that lies somewhere between Leonardo DiCaprio and Howie Mandel and you make a mental note to tell him sometime how big of a fucking douche it makes him look.

i forgot about you

yeah no shit

(Fucking douche.)

He hears the sting in your voice, and heaves a sigh as he pulls himself off the bed to stand. He's taller than you expected. You hover a little higher.

listen im sorry okay i didnt know you were here

think about it why would i purposefully leave myself to rot in some godforsaken limbo

where the hell are we anyway

not sure

im not dead yet and neither was your dream self so i figure wherever we are must still exist on a physical plane

but because this place is powered by memories it also has to be some kind of bubble at the same time with limits and borders

there are some places in this city i cant go because i recognize them as places ive never been before in the real world

its like a shared dream space made up of memories

an expanse of infinite raw subconscious

you got that from inception

whats inception

well shit

its this weirdass hit movie that came out after we left the game

christopher trollan is one deranged motherfucker

anyway saito does that mean youre in control of this dreamspace

most of the time

sometimes you have nightmares

He pauses for a moment. You decide he doesn't have to know about what you've had to fight away in his dreams.

He strolls around the room, scrutinizing, like every object in here was a fond yet dubious afterthought. You figured wherever he lived now was probably a lot different from this, but fuck it, this was your memory. This was your room. You used to spend a lot of time in here, so the layout was precise, down to the last extension cord, the picture of Ben Stiller above the closet, the stand-up electronic fan whirring in the corner. Yet, if you were to pick up, say, one of the copies of Game Bro off the desk, the pages would be filled with a jumble of letters, fuzzy pictures and blank pages. The photographs hanging from the clothesline by the window were blurred beyond recognition. The view from the window was the same as you remembered it, save for abandoned cars and barren streets. Only the inanimate objects and electronic concepts you committed to memory were allowed to exist here. No people allowed.

Save for the once-comatose Alpha Dream Dave that creepily and ragged-doll-ily stuck with you with every stage shift. The one up and about right in front of you, the one skirting his glances, refusing to face you properly.

He looks through the closet to find a lone bottle of apple juice. You suddenly had the strong urge to punch him.

the virus that ended the game took one of each player to the new timeline

(The urge fades.)

(You wanted it to go away and come back at the same time.)

oh yeah

yeah

megido said multiple versions of myself existed before the virus transferred me out

stable independent versions that werent dead or secured in time loops

the singling out effect of the virus doesnt affect heroes of time because we operate seperate from the timeline or some shit

meaning im the only one who brought all versions of myself out to the isolate timeline with me

so alpha dream you alpha you and me

yeah

i found this out a few days ago ive been trying to wake up here ever since

whos megido

one of the trolls

i dont think youve talked to her

A bag of bricks settles in your non-existent stomach.

sure you can trust her bro

 _She did take a pretty long fucking time to tell him about you, didn't she._

yeah man shes cool

i know about the shit that went down i wasnt too fond of the aliens at pistols fire either

but they ended up helping us out and at the finish line it was a troll that broke the winners tape holding up the virus baton like a motherfucking olympic torch

turns out the reason why they hated us was all a misunderstanding of elephantine proportions

(It was all a misunderstanding.)

(You and John and Rose and Jade were all just a misunderstanding.)

He traces his fingers across the turntables and the library of records and the equipment. He lives years from now, you suspect he's laughing in his head at how retro all your shit was.

records still play but the beats always sound a little off

its like hitting play on my memory of a song

i gotta work with what i got though

Finally, he reaches the plasma-screen television you moved in here, along with all the peripherals and consoles and game discs. You take note of his silence, and press the issue.

the game isnt over yet is it

thats why youre here

You aren't prepared for the way he looks at you.

The light pouring in from the window gleams in a way to make his dark lenses translucent; you see a shade, a bare _shade_ of the expression in his eyes and you're back at Bro's side, your hands soaked in red, tugging at the shirt of a dead man, feeling like a child. You had prototyped with a sprite at an age just shy of fourteen. You would always be stuck as this prototype, just shy of fourteen. He knows it, Alpha _knows it_ , and it's why he doesn't tell you how long you've been stuck here in solitude idling in limbo, and it's why you know he probably never will.

He tilts his head and his gaze disappears from you.

do these video games still work

Shake it off. Nod.

some more than others

theyre kind of fucked up though

they run on memory too right so they fizzle static snow in places i dont remember too clearly and the dialogue gets all weird since i dont have the scripts memorized

He pops out a disc from a case you can't see. He snickers. It sounds hollow.

back when i was fiddling with time shit i remember thinking to myself that if anything went wrong my one regret would be not finishing mgs 3 before i died

That earns a small smirk from you. Your face almost doesn't register the expression.

whenever i play i take on the boss cqc style

you know in the fucking field of breezy flowers

then when she reaches about half life it fades to black and resets

i never made it past that point so i dont know what comes next

He throws the good PS2 remote at you.

i do

He plops his stupid ass on the floor in front of your television. He's real, tangible, touching the buttons of your damn video game console like he had any right, the entitled twat. It's not until you decide on having a seat next to him when the notion that _you are no longer alone_ strikes your nerves and sinks in to the fullest.

You feel your hands wrap tight around the controller. The Playstation plays off its start-up intro; it reaches the main menu, you start a new game. Both of your memories collaborate in the emulation of the game, and if the drastic increase in quality meant anything, it must've been one of his replayable favourites. You rip through the first stage with little effort. He pretends not to notice the gentle shaking of your shoulders; he pretends to overlook the silent tears slipping out from the bottom of your shades, sliding down your cheeks. He makes a nonchalant jab at the length of the cutscenes instead, and you're thankful for it.

protip man you dont go cqc with the boss you just snipe the bitch

oh great i grow up to be a noob

stfu


	10. ==> Sollux: Use your eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heaven help me, I have no idea why this chapter took so long.

**== > Sollux: Use your eyes.**

Being blind didn't suit you.

Terezi attempts to tutor you in the ways of adapted living, to smell and taste and hear and feel the world around you, but the efforts lead to little more than sensory overloads and intense migraines. Your brain wasn't wired like hers was, how she lived with a constant, flowing input of sensation was beyond you.

Red tastes like cherries. Sadness wavers in the air differently than anger. Deceit smells bitter. The lessons sink in and stick with you long after you abandon the training; every so often, you can still discern someone's true mood by the inflection of their voice, you can still tell what colour something on the opposite side of the room is if the shade is just vibrant enough.

You'd mastered the layout of a traditional Alternian keyboard when you were three sweeps old, so with or without the aid of sight, typing had never presented a problem for you. The difficulty arose when pictures and chatlogs and on-screen code melded together to the taste of melted plastic on the edge of your tongue; when you could no longer program, you decided to find alternate means of coping with your blindness.

And over the sweeps, through a growing combination of various screen readers and text-to-voice programs, you coped perfectly well.

A glitch in a recent software update made more complex typing quirks virtually unreadable; a recent conversation with Terezi brought this glitch to light and shot the whole thing to shit.

Then your consort whacked you in the face for no apparent reason and knocked most of your front fangs out, but that was a different story.

You were about to reprogram the software in question when a friend of yours offered to help by solving your sight issues in a more practical way. The glasses they helped build for you bathed the universe in lines of colored code; negative space shadowed, inanimate objects Prospit gold, sentient beings their respective blood colours. The lenses deconstructed the world to the bare basics of numbers and symbols, and you perceived the very framework you once hacked in order to diverge the alpha timeline.

You had been reborn into a world of yellow and black, and it was perfect.

Even now, you're sitting cross-legged in a field, bright yellow Alternian letters dancing in the grass beneath your feet. A broad-shouldered individual stands a few yards away from you, his skin shaded a bold candy red. He's having trouble catching his breath. The weakness within his arms makes both of his scythes tremble in his grasp. An eyepiece hooks down loosely from around his left horn, and you can tell by the abrupt pause of his once-rapid movements that he's noticed you've terminated his virtual reality program.

You wait patiently for anonymous grey long-winded objection in three. Two.

CG: WHAT PART OF "AGAIN" DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND YOU MAGNIFICENT ASSHOLE.  
CG: I NEED YOU TO RESET THE FUCKING SIMULATION. WAS THAT ORDER EXPLICIT ENOUGH FOR YOU?  
TA: you've had eenough kk.  
TA: i'm pulling the plug for today. eeven though i know you probabee think this is meant to antagonizze you.  
CG: WHY ARE YOU TYPING LIKE THAT.  
TA: did you reead a word i just said.  
CG: BEES? REALLY?  
CG: THIS IS A THING YOU'RE DOING NOW?  
CG: THE BINARY THING WAS WAY COOLER. DID YOU SWITCH JUST SO YOU COULD INDULGE YOUR OBNOXIOUS WIGGLER OBSESSION WITH SHITTY PUNS?  
TA: maybee.  
CG: GOD.  
CG: OKAY WHAT IF I SAID PLEASE?  
CG: WHAT IF I DECORATED SAID PLEASE WITH VARIOUS ITEMS OF HYPOTHETICAL SUGARY CONFECTION? THAT WOULD DEFINITELY HELP CHANGE YOUR MIND WOULDN'T IT?  
TA: there's no challenge in beeting the eexact same simulation over and over again for hours at a time.  
TA: i'm ending the program and doing some calibrations to make it more challenging for you.  
CG: OKAY THAT'S GREAT.  
CG: WHEN WHATEVER FUCKED UP GAME MECHANIC CRACKS OPEN OUR UNIVERSE LIKE AN UNFERTILIZED CLUCKBEAST LEAVING AND I'M NOT TRAINED ENOUGH TO KEEP UP IN THE FIGHT, MY INADEQUACY CAN BE EXCUSED BECAUSE YOU WERE BUSY DOING CALIBRATIONS.  
TA: okay.  
CG: I STILL CAN'T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING.  
CG: I KNEW THE GAME WASN'T OVER. I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE STOPPED HARPING ON ALL YOUR LAZY ASSES TO KEEP IN SHAPE.  
TA: you're the one freeaking out about forgetting how to use a sickle.  
CG: THE SICKLE THING IS NOT BECAUSE OF THE GAME THING.  
CG: THE SICKLE THING IS BECAUSE MY THRESHECUTIONER APPLICATION IS BEING PROCESSED AND THE LAST FUCKING THING I NEED IS TO BLANK OUT DURING MY EVALUATION.  
CG: DON'T CHANGE THE SUBJECT.  
TA: you're overreeacting.  
TA: the virus is losing its pausing eeffect on the game, but we're already in a new universe. all wee have to do is separate the alpha universe from sgrub's reckoning cycle. that meeans cutting off ties the old timeline has in this timeline.  
TA: "points of catastrophic interest". monsters that carrieed over and shit.  
TA: we're basically playing cleean up, you don't have to bee so stressed over it.  
TA: aa went over this with you already.  
CG: OH YES OF COURSE BECAUSE ARADIA IS OBVIOUSLY A PARAGON OF TRUTH AND INTEGRITY.  
CG: THE ONE WHO KNOWS FUCKING EVERYTHING.  
CG: THE ONE WHO KEEPS SECRETS AND DOESN'T TAKE ACTION BEFORE SHE DEEMS IT RELEVANT.  
CG: THE ONE WHO DIDN'T TELL ANY OF US ABOUT THIS UNTIL THE LAST POSSIBLE MINUTE.  
CG: I TOLD YOU SHE'S ALWAYS CREEPED ME THE FUCK OUT SOLLUX, DIDN'T I TELL YOU?  
TA: that's my moirail you're talking about, asshole.  
CG: OKAY SORRY I WAS OUT OF LINE.  
CG: DON'T YOU FIND IT THE SLIGHTEST BIT SUSPICIOUS THOUGH?  
TA: yeah sure it's a little beezzarre.  
CG: OH MY FUCKING GOD  
TA: but shee's lead us this far. i trust her.  
TA: i don't care if anyone else does.  
CG: WHATEVER, MAN. NOT MY PROBLEM IF YOU'RE COMPLETELY BLIND TO THE SITUATION AROUND YOU.  
CG: NO OFFENCE.  
TA: you're an idiot.

You're both snickering at one another before it happens.

A bright flash illuminates the scene. A massive explosion leaves your ears ringing.

A heavily-built indigo form sweeps through your field of vision, flickering in and out of sight and weaving between your streaming yellow code like a refracting shadow. A much smaller red blur, another one you know all too well, chases after indigo, carrying a massive weapon brimming with energy. The head of the weapon aims for indigo and sings a sonic pitch before firing.

Another flash. Another deafening explosion.

The ground nearby bursts into a shower of grass and dirt.

The purple smear approaches faster than you can track. Indigo shifts to hide behind the red figure ahead of you, behind Karkat, and the size difference when indigo cowers to garner Karkat's protection is reminiscent of a tree trunk taking cover behind a fire hydrant.

Karkat holds his arms back protectively anyway, shielding Gamzee with his own body.

The petite red figure in the lab coat running after Gamzee dashes to stand in front of them. The neighboring proximity helps you realize for the first time that Karkat's blood colour wasn't just bright red--it was _exactly_ as bright red as a human's.

As Jade's.

You pull yourself to your feet and run over to her side.

Her gun whips up to aim straight for Gamzee's head. There's another low sonic hum as the rifle charges its power.

get out of the way, karkat!

ABSOLUTELY NOT.

WHAT IN THIS GODFORSAKEN FUCKING WORLD IS THE MATTER WITH YOU, HARLEY?

this is between him and me!! step aside!!!

NOT UNTIL YOU TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!

you really want to know whats going on???

this FUCKASS has been causing dave nightmares for the past four years!!

it's HIM!! all this time it's been HIM making dave have all those awful dreams!!!

do you have any idea what kind of a point those dreams pushed him to??

do you have any idea how much he's SUFFERED because of them?? because of HIM???

WAIT WAIT WAIT SLOW THE FUCK DOWN FOR A MINUTE

HOW DO YOU KNOW GAMZEE'S RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS?

i am definitely motherfucking responsible for the cacklephonious voodoo tinkering around his motherfuckin bubble thoughts.

HIS HEAD WAS MY MOTHERFUCKING PLAYGROUND.

OH FOR FUCK'S SAKE

At once, Jade squints through the scope of her rifle. Karkat hooks his scythe against the front of Jade's gun; he yanks and drags the gun to point at his own face, instead.

Gritting her teeth, Jade forces her brows together. Growling anger seizes her tone and you almost don't recognize her voice.

karkat why are you doing this??

why are you defending him after everything hes done???

BECAUSE HE'S MY MOIRAIL.

HE'S MY RESPONSIBILITY AND AS LONG AS I'M ALIVE I WON'T LET YOU TOUCH HIM.

THEN WHY DON'T YOU DO YOUR JOB AND KEEP HIM AT THE END OF A FUCKING LEASH WHERE HE BELONGS!!!!

YES YES OKAY FUCK

LISTEN, I'M SORRY I LET HIM GET OUT OF HAND. THIS IS ALL COMPLETELY MY FAULT FOR NOT KEEPING A CLOSER WATCH ON HIM AND I'M SORRY STRIDER HAD TO SUFFER BECAUSE OF IT, I REALLY FUCKING AM.

Jade doesn't move, but her grasp on her gun begins to tremble.

Karkat tilts his head down and looks at her intently over the barrel of the rifle.

JADE.

I'LL TAKE CARE OF THIS. I PROMISE.

WE'RE FRIENDS, AREN'T WE?

TRUST ME.

She's still shaking with outrage when tears slip down her face. You steal the opportunity to rest a hand on her shoulder, and her posture begins to relax under your grip, the rifle powering down as she lowers it.

You find it a fitting time to change the subject.

haven't seen that one beefore.

She lowers her gaze and turns to you. Her voice remains strong as ever.

just finished it a couple of nights ago

that isn't the x473b prototype you were showing mee blueprints of last week, is it?

yeah it is actually

holy shit you're fast. it turned out great.

Jade wipes her face on the back of her labcoat sleeve. Whenever she faces you, she's always sure her eyes meet yours--at least where yours used to be before the empty sockets were replaced with specially modded glasses of her design.

Pink goggles.

She's come to know you far too well.

She tugs playfully at one of the elastic straps wrapped around your head.

swing by sometime soon okay

i need to calibrate these

i'm not making any promises, i'm a very busy troll.

jeeeeez dont make me come grab you

but what if that's what i'm waiting for?

Jade flashes you a quiet smirk before turning back around and aiming her rifle in Gamzee and Karkat's general direction.

keep your creepy douchebag clown pet out of daves head or i swear ill finish this job myself do you understand me???

For a moment, you'd had the leisure of forgetting Karkat had been watching the two of you.

There's a distinct strain in his voice when he speaks again, a shocked, heartbroken strain that you sensed meant he probably wouldn't be talking to you for a while.

I ALREADY SAID I'D TAKE CARE OF THIS, DIDN'T I?

Jade props her rifle up over her shoulders. Her lab coat sweeps behind her as she storms off the scene in dead silence.

You are mesmerized by the swing of her hips until Karkat shatters the quiet.

ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?

YOU HAVE CONCUPISCENT LEANINGS FOR SOMEONE AND YOU DIDN'T THINK TO FUCKING INFORM ME?

sorry to break it to you, best motherfuckin friend.

BUT MY QUADRANTS AIN'T ANY OF YOUR MOTHERFUCKING BUSINESS.

_Thwack._

Karkat's backhanded Gamzee hard enough to make indigo spill from the highblood's white-painted cheek. Somehow, you knew at least half of that force was delivered with you in mind.

FUCKING EXCUSE ME?

DID YOU SERIOUSLY JUST PLAY THAT CARD WITH ME, YOU OVERLY DRAMATIC SQUIRT OF PUNGENT BULGESLIME?

YOU'RE TORMENTING A HUMAN IN HIS SLEEP AND IT'S NONE OF MY BUSINESS??

YOU'RE BLACK FOR SOMEONE AND IT'S NONE OF MY FUCKING BUSINESS???

I AM YOUR MOIRAIL. I AM THE ONE WHO CAME BETWEEN YOU AND KANAYA BACK IN THE VEIL. I AM THE ONLY REASON YOU ARE EVEN FUCKING ALIVE RIGHT NOW AND YOU WOULD DO WELL TO KEEP THAT MARBLE OF A THOUGHT ROLLING AROUND YOUR PATHETICALLY BARREN THINK PAN BEFORE YOU OPEN YOUR GAPING FOOD HOLE AND SPEW BULLSHIT IN MY FACE.

YOUR BREATHING IS MY MOTHERFUCKING BUSINESS. YOU AREN'T ALLOWED TO BLINK UNLESS I GIVE YOU THE OKAY. YOU DON'T GET TO TAKE A FUCKING SHIT WITHOUT MY EXPRESS WRITTEN CONSENT.

HERE I WAS THINKING TEREZI WAS BULLSHITTING.

I FUCKING DEFENDED YOU BECAUSE I NEVER THOUGHT YOU'D TRY PURSUING A BLACKROM BEHIND MY BACK, BUT IT LOOKS LIKE I UNDERESTIMATED THE VAST EXTENT OF YOUR FUCKING STUPIDITY AND NOW I HAVE TO GO APOLOGIZE TO HER. DO YOU REALIZE HOW IDIOTIC YOU'VE MADE ME LOOK?

You almost feel inappropriate just by being here and witnessing this, even moreso when Gamzee's line of vision trails to his feet, the monstrous form of a highblood looking as ashamed as a smacked puppy while purple runs in a thin river down his cheek.

i'm real motherfuckin sorry, bro.

MY HEAD'S SCRATCHING ME UP BAD FROM THE INSIDE OUT.

my motherfuckin heart's dressed up in distraction.

YOU COLOSSAL FUCK, WE BOTH KNOW THIS ISN'T JUST A DISTRACTION.

I KNOW YOU'RE SERIOUS ABOUT THIS.

I KNOW BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T LAY A HAND AGAINST JADE EVEN WHEN SHE WAS TRYING TO OUTRIGHT FUCKING KILL YOU. I DON'T EVEN CARE WHETHER THAT WAS FOR ME OR FOR STRIDER.

THE POINT IS I KNOW.

BUT YOU CAN'T LET YOURSELF GET DISTRACTED. NOT WHEN WE'RE SO CLOSE TO BEING RECRUITED.

I'M GOING TO BE ASSIGNED TO A THRESHECUTIONER'S FLAYSQUAD, YOU'RE GOING TO BE A RECRUIT OF THE LAUGHASSASSIN'S GUILD, WE GET THE FUCK OFF PLANET AND LEAVE THIS PLACE BEHIND AND LIVE THE FUCKING DREAM, YOU AND ME.

Karkat grabs the sides of Gamzee's face and tip-toes to bump their foreheads together with too much gentleness for you to bear.

I'M NOT GOING TO LET YOU FUCK THIS UP FOR YOURSELF, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?

STAY AWAY FROM THE STRIDER.

A weary grin spreads across Gamzee's face. The full baring of his teeth had no place looking so peaceful.

alright, bro.

Karkat paps Gamzee's cheek. You could almost hear the smaller troll's sigh of relief from here.

Terezi once taught you that deceit smells bitter.

The indigo figure reeks of almonds and the scent fills you with dread.


	11. Chapter 11

Hey, guys! Sorry to tease you with the prospect of an update (there is one!), but first, I've a bit of an announcement to make.

The story I've got planned has become far too massive to restrict to one installment. Because it's developed past that of my original vision, and because I'd like to believe taking on a story like this provides wonderful writing and character development opportunities I've been working very hard at improving upon since the beginning, I've been forced to break this down into a multi-part series.

This was supposed to be a really simple, straightforward shippingfic for my own silly multipairing wish fufillment, but it's grown to become much more than that. It's grown to have a plotline, it's grown to have purpose. Looking back on the story I wrote, my intents seem really scattered right now! But now that I have plotted out all the individual character arcs, things are going to become more streamlined and more cohesive from now on. These characters deserve much better than what I first had planned for them, so I hope you won't mind the more focused direction in which this story will be turning.

The next installment is called [As The Sun Grows High](http://archiveofourown.org/works/362605).

I hope you'll enjoy the journey as much as I.

**Author's Note:**

> _"Homestuck" and all canon characters and characteristics remain the property and rights of Andrew Hussie._


End file.
